Only in Hyrule
by CrazygurlMadness
Summary: I don't know whether or not I'll become queen, I'm running against a tyrant, every single one of my friends is nuts, and all I want to do is jump my hot blonde publicist's bones. I, Zelda Harkinian, am royally screwed. AU Zelink. 2007 UFO Awards Winner
1. Waitress

**AT LONG LAST _Only in Hyrule_ has come to your screens. This is due to the fortunate fact that I finished up to 17 chapters on a total of 27, and therefore the story is more than half complete.**

**This story originated on my flight back from France last summer, and has been in intensive progress for the most part of the past two months. It is also going to be my longest work to date, as well as the most up-to-date in terms of spelling and grammar (which, I'd like to remind you, means I used a Canadian dictionary). The current written chapters include names of over 50 Legend of Zelda characters from games spanning the whole series (excluding Twilight Princess, for obvious reasons), and the final version will hold roughly 75 instances in which characters will at least have been referred to.**

**I'd like to thank Zelda Legends .Net for their Wiki encyclopedia. It unknowingly was my reference in terms of names and items.**

**NOTE: All characters in the following story have their basis in a Legend of Zelda game or other. This is an AU story, and though currently incomplete, it will WITHOUT any shadow of a doubt be completed (unless I die a horrible death).**

**Warning: None for the moment.**

**Please enjoy.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Waitress"**

"Two cappuccinos, one espresso and a bagel, for table four," Malon says to me as we brush past each other in the narrow kitchen. Fluidly, she hands me a tray of said coffees and I smile briefly, pushing the kitchen door open and walking to table four. The solely male occupants ―truckers, I presume— of the table leer at me. I know it's because of the unusually short skirt I'm wearing, which I borrowed from Ruto because the local Laundromat got vandalized and they haven't let anyone in to do their laundry for the past week.

It's like they're taking us hostage with our dirty clothes. This is no way to live. I thought Hyrule was a civilized country. This dirty clothes business is a nasty wake-up call, if anything.

Sure, Lakeside, in the south of Hyrule, near Lake Hylia, isn't exactly what you'd call an internationalized city or anything. It's really more of a cemented, commercial, gritty and greasy little town on the side of the highway where the permanent inhabitants total three hundred and forty-two people. The majority of those who sleep in Lakeside just use our overabundant motels and cheap restaurants to rest before passing the border or before driving far north to Marcastle, Hyrule's capital.

"Hey, Blondie," one of the truckers jokes, "how much for a twenty blinks tip?"

His blatant hooker joke makes his two other friends roar with laughter. I flatly stare at them.

I hate being a waitress.

"With twenty blinks, sir," I say, wondering how much twenty rupees would do for me but wanting to quip back and prove I'm not a desperate whore, "you could probably afford a presentable shirt at the local Hi-Mart." I smile thinly. "I'm sorry, but you obviously need those rupees more than I do."

"Hey, don't get so snappy," the trucker's friends warn me angrily. I feel like showing him the definition of snappy, but I figure the subtlety of it would be lost on him.

"Tough customers," Malon sighs at me when I come back into the kitchen. It's a mystery how she can know everything and still fit in her own work. "Would you like me to—?"

"I'm fine," I mumble back. "It's just this damn skirt. You'd think Ruto would buy longer skirts. She has the longest legs."

Malon looks at me sympathetically. "Well, you just missed a fancy tip there. Would you like me to flirt those rupees back?"

Her grin belies her true thoughts. She's joking, of course. Malon's the sweetest girl, really. She's one of those delicate looking redheads with big blue country eyes and white freckled skin. Under the flowery exterior though is hidden a ferocious and loyal friend with a quick mind and a caring attitude, the kind who lends you her cute Calatian shirts for special occasions because you're too broke to buy your own.

Generosity is a Ranch trait, actually. Malon's dad, Talon Ranch, the bartender and owner of the local bar where Malon and I also work on weeknights, totally gave me money to finish my high school tuition when Mom died. He didn't have to, but he fished the sum out of his own pocket without blinking and gave it to the school Malon and I attended, for me. He also helped me get hired at the café here.

I made enough money to scrape and pay for a cheap college to get a basic diploma, after which I started working to pay them back.

I don't know where I'd be without the Ranch family. Probably roaming the streets asking for clients, like those truckers suggested. Malon, Talon and even her grumpy Uncle Ingo acted kind of like a second family, since mine had either walked out long ago or passed away.

"That won't be necessary," I say, finally cracking a smile, which seems to satisfy her. "I'll just have my lawyer call them."

Malon rolls her eyes, smiling. "You mean the lawyer who's going to come sweep you off your feet one day and take you to live in his big town mansion?"

I pull a face at her. "Laugh all you want. But if I'm ever going to make Mom happy, I have to solve my financial issues. Marrying a sexy lawyer just seems like the best idea."

"Wait," Malon teases, "Where did the sexy part come in? You're being picky, aren't you?"

I shrug, but we both laugh lightly. In fact, I'm not so sure any lawyer will want to marry a waitress with a college diploma and clothes she's unable to clean. It's just one of those little wishes that Malon and I have fun inventing.

"Look," Malon says, glancing at her watch, "your shift is almost over. What do you say we meet up at the centre once I'm done and browse through the Outlet's overpriced sales? We have to see if they still have those flip-flops you like. And I saw this adorable pair of shorts the other day at Ponds." Never mind the fact that neither Malon nor I could afford anything from Ponds in this lifetime even if we put our ―admittedly unimpressive― life savings together. It's the kind of thing Ruto buys, because she's her daddy's little princess.

"Sure. But I'm heading home to change first," I say, looking down at my skirt. "I keep getting this feeling like people can see my underwear."

Malon grins teasingly. "Oh, come on, Zellie. The little beetles are cute."

I stare at her wide-eyed and try to pull my skirt's hem down. "Do they really show?"

Malon rolls her eyes and brushes her silky red hair aside. "Gimme a break. I know they're the ones you're wearing because we bought them yesterday and you haven't been able to get clean loos since the Laundromat crapped out. The skirt's short, but it looks good on you."

All things considered, I sometimes think that Malon is actively working at giving me a heart attack. But I never held a grudge against her. She's the best at worming herself out of grudges. With that innocent look and all. I wish I could do that.

I sigh.

"See you at four, then, Mal."

Waggling my fingers at her, I grab my purse and sign out. I don't own a car, and instead of waiting for the one bus to pick me up, I begin walking towards the mobile home park. Mom and I used to own a bungalow, but our heavy debts and her early death precipitated its sale. Since then I've been living with a girl named Anju whose gipsy parents were tired of hoarding their teen daughter along on their hippie tours and so bought her a mobile home. She and Mom had worked together in a nearby inn, until Mom died of cancer. Anju suffered a great deal from Mom's departure, so she changed jobs.

Anju's a gentle, big-hearted, air-headed girl with a pretty, simple face, short hair, and a tendency to be amazingly clumsy. Her cooking also has a founded reputation of being inedible. Still, she offered me a place to stay after Mom's death and helped to sort out my financial problems. She couldn't stand the idea of ten year-old me left out on the street to freeze to death.

Perhaps it hadn't occurred to Anju that the winters in the area were quite mild and that, in all likelihood, I wouldn't have been left homeless ―just sent to an orphanage. Since that wasn't an exciting prospect, it was just as well. In time, she helped me to get a minor's emancipation, just as she had obtained herself, then offered me to stay with her for good. I wasn't stupid enough to say no, of course.

Anju wanted someone to ensure she didn't leave the stove on or the bills unpaid. Her grandmother, an Alzheimer patient who spoke to her dead husband Tortus and who resided at Fishing Lake hospital also required some of her attention. Since the mobile home's door locks are unreliable, she likes having me there as much as possible when she isn't.

"Oh, Zelda," she greets peacefully in welcome when I step into the mobile home, shutting the door behind me. "Have a good day at work?" I shrug, offering a weak smile and a roll of the eyes. Anju looks sympathetic. "Well, tomorrow's another day."

I nod, like I always do, because that's Anju's key saying and there's nothing to add to it. Instead of complaining, I drop my bag near the door and slip out of my shoes.

Anju is working again. She works at home during the afternoons, designing new products. She runs a souvenir shop with quirky mugs and shirts promoting Hylian events. It's only once you look at what she makes that you realize Anju's funnier than she lets on.

Today, she's smiling to herself. That means her current idea satisfies her.

I look at what she's doing.

She's working on a black t-shirt design, I notice. Big, white, bold lettering says 'Only In Hyrule', and under the text, there's a picture of the National Cuckoo Gliding Competition, which was held last year in Gerudo Canyon, I believe. A sarcastic-looking cartoon cuckoo in the foreground is saying, in a speech bubble, 'Home-bred talent at its finest'.

I snicker, and Anju smiles broadly.

She says, "I wanted to poke fun at the current politics, but it's a design that may grow outdated before you know it. It's safer to laugh at the NCGC."

I approve her choice and notice the many newspaper clippings strewn about the tiny kitchen where she works. Amongst other headlines, I read, 'President Daphne Nohansen Dead In Car Crash' and 'Total Overthrow! The People Vote to Lose Democracy!' Another clip says, 'Hyrule's _Royalty Party_ In High Rule'.

Anju notices my gaze. She says, "Only in Hyrule would people deliberately choose to return to monarchy." She sounds exasperated.

"I voted for them too," I say, smirking. "It sounded funny in the beginning. Though I'm starting to think it's all a wacko plot to take over the world."

Anju nods sagely. "Their regressive ways were expressed in a way that made people feel like a monarch would nurture them more."

"I wonder who they'll pick," I say, laughing. "Maybe Nabooru Spirit? That woman _deserves_ to be a queen. She's the very epitome of royalty."

"It's true that where looks are concerned, Nabooru Spirit fits the part. But does she know how to rule? She is, after all, nothing more than an actress."

I shrug. "Well it's not like royalty actually works. They're just the figureheads. I'm sure they have people do all their work for them."

"Still," Anju comments, re-examining her 'Only in Hyrule' tee, "It'd be nice to have someone competent to replace Nohansen. Poor man. He died before his time."

I snort. I've never been very fond of Daphne Nohansen, somehow. There was no particular reason I didn't like him. I just didn't. Kind of like he'd personally insulted me, or something like that, in a past life, and that had left a black trace with me.

"Everyone dies before their time," I say, and head to my room to change. I know Anju looked up sadly. She knows what talk of death does to me. Well, you'd be touchy too if your Mom had died and left you only with her hopes for a better life.

Still, it's not like I cry in my bed much anymore. It hurts sometimes, though. There might be a time when I get over it, but until then, I prefer to make conversations about death as short as possible.

"I'm heading out to the centre to shop with Malon," I call to Anju as I struggle to slip out of the short skirt Ruto lent me. "Is there something you want me to bring back?"

"No," Anju says, dazedly, as is usually her fashion when she's busy thinking of something else.

I find somewhat clean jeans on my floor. Well. Mom used to say you ought to wear jeans until they stuck to the wall when they're thrown at it or when they started moving on their own accord. It was a nasty way of saying that jeans could be worn more than once. She always had those weird expressions.

I look around. My room isn't chaotic. It's just cramped, and all my dirty clothes, which I cannot wash, are piled in a heap in one of my corners. We don't have enough cupboard space to fit a laundry basket. Our mobile home is basically a singlewide. It's enough for two space-hungry women, but three would definitely be a crowd in here.

I distinctly hear someone knock at our door. The sound carries well into my room. I hear Anju shift and stand, and step towards the door. She's not a very nervous kind. She's more anxious when she messes up a chocolate cake than when someone unexpected knocks at our door.

The owner of the trailer park where we live, Mr. Gorman, keeps telling us that we ought to put in a door chain. Neither Anju nor I listen to him, because the last time someone was attacked in the park was five years ago, and he'd been pissing off the local bums. Besides, as those same bums casually told us when we had them over for tea last spring, Mr. Gorman can be really full of shit sometimes. Their words, not mine.

I hear Anju open the door, and zip up my jeans.

"Yes? How may I help you?" I hear her ask. I briefly consider that we rarely get door-to-door vendors, because we're so poor. We occasionally get some fervent religious adept trying to promote his ideals, but otherwise…

"Um… Yes, she's…" I hear Anju stammer, once the visitor finishes saying something I can't distinguish. "She's… May I ask who you are?"

There's a pause. I consider going to look, but at the same time, if it's important at all, I could just ask Anju once he's―

"Oh, uh, um… come in," I suddenly hear Anju say, and she sounds strangely uncomfortable. "Come in," I hear her softly repeat. Wow. How odd. She's nice and all, but she's never invited vendors in before.

Anju closes the door then invites whoever the visitor is to follow her. Two sets of footsteps go into the kitchen.

"Would you like, um, something to drink?" Anju asks.

When the visitor answers this time, I can hear him as well as Anju. His voice is young, smooth, soft, controlled. "No, thank you. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

I'm annoyed and curious now.

"Is this something very serious?" I hear Anju ask, anxiously. "I can't see what―"

The visitor chuckles gently. He has a nice chuckle, actually. Still, why would Anju be so worried? "Don't worry, Miss…?"

"Anju."

"Miss Anju. In answer to your question, yes, this is a rather serious issue, but you shouldn't be worried." There's a pause. "I think it may be an improvement for her."

Her? Are they talking about me? Who is this guy?

I step into the kitchen. "Um… What's going on?"

Anju turns to me, looking concerned, like she expects that I've done something reprehensible, which I haven't. I think…?

I turn to look at the man she invited in, and freeze.

Holy bloody Triforce.

He's pretty young. At least, he has a full head of hair, and none of them white, instead a dark, dirty blond. They're short, rumpled, kind of messy and spiky, but otherwise totally perfect. His skin sports a light tan, like he hasn't been in the sun purposely but enough to get just a tone darker. His frame is square, but lean. He's tall, with capable hands and a confident, business-like posture. He looks like a banker who was on vacation and just came back: relaxed but focused at once.

His eyes, though, turn to me when he notices Anju looking my way. They're blue, and he has this bright, intelligent look, piercing and caressing all in one.

He gives me a careful once over, before turning to Anju and asking, "Is this she?"

Anju merely nods. I hadn't seen her so unsure before.

Satisfied, apparently, the visitor comes my way in two confident strides and offers his hand for me to shake in greeting. "Zelda," he says, shooting me an ad-worthy smile. This is so weird. I haven't seen a smile like that anywhere but on the big screen. "Link Forester. You can call me Link."

"Link," I say, a bit unsure, wondering what the hell is going on.

"As I was telling your… friend?" He indicates Anju.

"Friend, yes," I confirm, throwing Anju a curious glance. All she does is rub her forehead. Well.

"I was explaining. I'm Link Forester; I work for the government." He takes out a myriad of papers, authenticity notices, and identity cards from his suitcase, spreading them on the table, over the newspaper clippings. "These are simply to prove this is not a fraud of any kind. I majored in history of politics and worked for seven years for an independent firm taking care of the public image of our government," he says, and when he notices my blank look, he adds, "You know, those who ensure the politicians don't look too stupid."

Anju and I look at the papers. I'm not sure what he expects us to do. Comb through them? I wouldn't know a real from a fake anyway.

"Um…" I start, "What does this have to do with… well, me and Anju?"

"Oh," Link Forester smiles, and his smile really is the most attractive I've ever seen, "no offence to Miss Anju, but this has to do with you, rather exclusively."

I know it's completely innocent, but that makes me feel kind of warm. "Me?" What does a hot government publicist want with me? He wants to ensure I don't look too stupid or something?

Link's smile dies. He looks a bit unsure of how to word his next sentence. He turns to Anju. "Perhaps she should sit?"

Anju blinks then turns to me. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know, I can't imagine whatever is going on," I reply, but sit down nonetheless. Link too sits across from me, at the table. "Did something happen?" I ask him.

"Well," Link says, indicating the newspaper clippings under his own cards and papers. "I believe you know the current political situation."

I gaze at him. "You lost your job because politicians got kicked out of parliament?"

Surprised, Link laughs. "Lost my job? No, no. No." He becomes grave again. "I trust you realize that at this point, the elected party is seeking someone to take the reigns of the country. With Daphne Nohansen dead, the country is headless, basically."

"Aren't you supposed to put up a king or queen?" I ask, still unsure of what he's getting at.

"Well, yes. But we have to find someone that the people will approve of. Obviously the elected party doesn't want to lose their ideals to a revolution. Our publicity firm has been in charge of finding good ruler suggestions, actually, ever since Nohansen's will has been opened."

I see now that he is taking out a palm pilot.

"I myself am in charge of information gathering," he explains. "I know what rumours are true, which are false, I can find anything. How to say this?" He smiles thinly, a bit darkly, "My job is to know everything."

I stare at him. I still don't see why he's talking to _me_.

"It was suggested that someone related to Daphne Nohansen, a man who was generally well-liked, be put up as first ruler of Hyrule."

Something is nagging at me, something like a horrible suspicion, under my skin, not really there or completely worded, just undulating inside me.

Link looks straight at me. "What is your full name?"

Um… wow. Talk about a guy who's supposed to know everything. "Zelda Harkinian."

Harkinian was my Mom's name. I never knew my father's name. Mom didn't like talking about him. He was a jerk who'd walked out on her when she was just three months pregnant. He'd freaked out, Mom told me. So, for not knowing my father's identity, I took her name.

Now, I get this really horrible feeling, like maybe that bastard had something else in store for me, even after all these years.

"Yes, so your records say," Link nods. So. Why did he ask me, if he knew already? "I'm not sure how to break this to you, Zelda, but technically, your name should be Zelda Nohansen."

I don't move. My lips are sealed together. I'm frozen to my spot.

There's a long, heavy, gut-wrenching silence. The longest I ever heard.

Link's blue eyes are piercing my own.

"I g… Ca… Wh… How… What are you talking about…?" I'm blurting, I know, but Link seems to understand my drift anyway.

He says, "Your father, Daphne Nohansen, left your mother when she was pregnant with you, and stayed put for a while. No need to ask how I know. We have enough reports, and if need be, we'll prove this with DNA. Anyway, he became a popular figure in politics around eight years ago ―which was quite a while after your mother's death,― and moved fast enough to the top. Then," Link glances at the newspaper clippings, "he died, leaving you nothing but leaving the country a huge place to fill. The Royalty Party suggested that a king or queen should do so."

I stare at him, and my voice, unusually weak, deadpans, "So you thought you'd give me the place to fill." That's basically what he's been hinting at all along.

Link smiles, and I'm beginning to think he can't possibly mean it when he smiles, being able to throw them around at such a critical time like that and everything. "There's a bit more to it, but that's a fine way to sum it up."

I stare right back. "You want me to be a princess."

Link purses his lips. "Queen is the more appropriate term."

Getting over the shock faster than me, Anju suddenly says, "Wait. That's ridiculous. You can't _force_ her to be queen. What is she doesn't want to be?"

Link eyes don't leave mine. For a guy who doesn't know when to smile and when to frown, he really does look amazingly good. "That's absolutely correct," he confirms. "I can't force you, nor can anyone force you, to aim for the throne." He takes a breath, then says, "But Zelda, the crown practically has your name on it. The members of the Royalty Party all approved your potential as a good successor to Nohansen."

"But they don't even know me," I say, in a sort of squeaky voice. "How could they even…" I trail off. I'm seriously in shock. Too much of this is unreal.

Link seems to understand. His eyes soften. "It doesn't matter whether they know you or not. Anyone can be queen, with the proper amount of training and attention. The question isn't whether you can or can't anymore. It's about whether you want to or not. Zelda," he says again, "would you like to be the Queen of Hyrule? Do you think this is something you want?"

"I don't know what I want," I breathe, feeling tears coming up. None of this makes sense! "I don't know. I just don't know."

Try living your whole life thinking you're going to do the dishes with a dirty cloth for the rest of your days and suddenly being offered a silk scarf with a domestic to do the job in your place! That's how I felt. Like a domestic had taken my dirty cloth from me.

Link looks around. He spots a tissue box on the kitchen counter and grabs a couple, then hands them to me. I'm surprised at the gesture. He looked very bureaucratic before, but now he looks like he really understands my shock.

"If it's any consolation," he says, slowly, "We won't ask you to change your name to Nohansen. I understand that your mother never really forgave him for what he'd done, leaving the two of you to struggle. You can remain as a Harkinian, maybe start a lineage…" He grins, but then stops smiling when I don't laugh. "If you accept, of course."

"I've never been a leader," I say.

"It's never too late."

I glare at him. Of course he'd want me to become queen. It'd ensure he kept his job.

"If I said no," I begin, and he tenses, "what then?"

Link looks contemplative, and a bit like he just choked on something. "We'd have to find someone else, it'd leave the country in a lot of instability meanwhile."

Great. I'd be responsible for national instability. I'm not exactly convinced by his act, but I figure it's best not to question his word.

"And if I said yes…" I say, carefully, "What would happen to my stuff? Would I have to move?"

Link nods. "We're giving the parliament its old vocation back in Marcastle. It used to be a royal palace, and it shall be so again. A part of it would be your residence," he adds. "You could take all your belongings there."

I look over at Anju. "What about… What about Anju? And my friends?"

Link stays silent. I assume that means I would be leaving them behind. So. I get my pick of picks. Loneliness with money or friends with poverty?

Dammit.

I begin crying. See, that's just the thing. Mom and I struggled all our lives to make enough money that we wouldn't have to be miserable or tight-budgeted all the time. She always wished comfort for me. Always.

By staying here, I did have friends, but I would never be comfortable.

By going there, I would be rich and powerful, but I'd be away from everything else that I knew, including my friends, and that was a painful thought to bear.

Though… If I were Queen…

I could repay my debt to Talon. And buy Anju a house with actual locks.

I could help people out. I could make a difference.

And I wouldn't have to waitress anymore.

Maybe Link can see me calm down and look resigned. He's relaxing. He stands now, gathering his papers. "I'll have a taxi take you to Copse Airport in a week. I'll have a ticket for you. If you choose not to come…" He shrugs. "Well, I'll be leaving first class without you."

With a final nod to Anju, who's still looking shocked, and a thin, kind smile to me, he shows himself out.

I turn to look at Anju. I think she can see my choice on my face.

"Only in Hyrule," she philosophically says with a watery smile and a half-hearted shrug. "As for me…" She looks up to the ceiling, humorously, even though her eyes are very moist, "Well. Tomorrow's another day, so maybe I can be a duchess myself."

**That's it for chapter 1. Chapter 2 should come in tomorrow or after tomorrow or something like that. :)**

**Leave a word or two, will you?**

**Love,  
****CM**


	2. Actress

**Here's the chapter that started it all. Things pick up in the next chapter, though. This is more of an establishing shot again. ****The beginning will most likely be familiar to those who read my profile during development.**

**Notes: You can visit my blog (see profile) to find --while browsing through the archives-- a couple of profiles of the main characters in OiH.**

**Warning: Still none. Maybe some very slight innuendos but hardly anything to panic about.**

**Enjoy!**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Actress"**

It's only when the plane starts to move that I begin to panic. I'm not normally a panicky person. As a matter of fact, I'm very level headed since last week, breezing through all my departure arrangements with a clear mind.

Besides, it's not like I suffer from airsickness or anything. At least, I don't think so. I don't know because I've never taken the plane before. And I mean, sure, I'm not exactly comfortable with the prospect of thirty thousand feet separating me from the safety of the ground, but I'm not about to faint either.

By rights, I should be excited. This is my first flight ever and I didn't even have to pay for my ticket. Well, that's no surprise: I couldn't have afforded a plane ticket with my meagre salary, which, on second thought, I don't even have anymore.

I'm feeling panicky, though. The plane is taking off, speeding up, tipping up. Since nobody else is panicking, I'm assuming everything is in order. What really upsets me, actually, is the realisation that I can't ask to be let off anymore. No going back, Zellie, my conscience is saying.

I shift in my seat and earn myself a glance from Link Forester, who's clearly more relaxed than me. He closes his eyes as we ascend, smirking mildly to himself. He's clearly accustomed to first class flights. He probably thinks I'm excited, which I should be. I mean, what girl wouldn't be excited? One day, you're living off a desperately low waitress' wage, trying to get into the Laundromat to clean your underwear and saving up for flip-flops from the Outlet, and the next you're being swept off to the big city by a hot blond business man who's on a mission to make you a queen…

It's really upsetting to become a royal without doing anything when all your life you've struggled to eat. Besides, what kind of country destroys its own democracy to install a monarchy? Why did I even vote for something that stupid? I'm so dumb.

Link has taken out his palm pilot. I think the machine is grafted to him with invisible thread. I glance his way and wonder if a palm counts as one of those electronic devices they're telling us about in the safety video.

But Link doesn't turn it on. He just replaces its batteries. I get a quick look at his nimble hands. They're long, large, a bit rough looking, but still agile. I also briefly wonder if they're the dry warm kind or the slimy cold kind. Link doesn't seem the slimy nervous type, though. He's really more of the hottie persuasion, which is something else that kind of upsets me. I shouldn't have to keep respectful distance. Guys like that ought to be shagged, not listened to.

I avoid his hotness and look out the tiny window on the side of which I'm sitting. Link got the alley seat, but he doesn't seem to mind much. From here, I feel that he's radiating heat. That's good. The plane is air conditioned, and the puny blanket they handed us totally doesn't do the trick. I wonder if I could sidle a bit closer to him.

Hm, I could definitely get excited about that.

Although Link obviously doesn't understand that I'm getting more doubts about this than ever. How does one go from being a waitress to being a royal, anyway?

He glances my way again. In his smooth voice, he asks, "Excited?"

You know, I get this feeling like this guy might be a threat to my intimate thoughts.

"Sort of," I say with what is and feels like a strained smile. "This is my first flight."

"I know." Link says this smartly, glancing at the seatbelt icon that just dinged and switched off above our heads. His tone is knowing, convivial but final, like he was just talking to me to ensure I wouldn't be sick all over him and his very well cut Terminian suit ―Terminian suit! Hotness!

Instead of inquiring about me again, he turns his palm pilot on and begins browsing through it. I can't see what he's looking at since the screen is flat.

Funny. I _should_ find him cold and unpleasant, but I can't seem to. I guess he's just another one of those naturally pleasant people. How annoying.

I have to wonder what else he knows about me aside from the first flight thing.

Suddenly, he chuckles, though he hasn't looked up from his palm pilot. He says, eyes crinkling and a sexy dimple appearing in his smile, "You got kicked out of Wood Scouts because you tried to syndicate your group? At the age of twelve?"

My Din. He knows way more than the first flight thing.

"Look," I say, "all those paramilitary trainings just can't be right. They have to be regulated somehow, and the rights of those who make all those sailor knots have to be protected."

"Sure, yeah. But syndicating?" He looks amused and incredulous, like he's been told a good joke.

"Well," I huff, piqued, "If you're worried about a sullied reputation, don't worry, nothing like that has happened since. As you probably already know," I add sullenly.

Link shakes his head, still smiling incredulously. "Don't worry _yourself_. If anything, that info makes good publicity. People like cute stories like that. It makes you real, y'know? Close to them."

"But," I say, uncomprehending, "I _am_ real. I was a waitress, remember?"

"The waitress part is good too, but not enough. They want truth, elegance and love to lead them. Not a bratty, uneducated shopaholic who doesn't know the difference between Château Romani and plain milkwine."

I've never tried milkwine, but I'm not about to announce that I don't know the difference myself. If he so wants to be sure, he can check his palm pilot. Then again, what if wine tasting becomes one of my duties as queen? What then?

"You've never ridden horseback," Link says. "So it's on the list."

Link rhymes with kink. Yummy.

Wait. Um, what list? "List?"

"List of queenly things for you to learn. It's right along etiquette, dancing and milkwine tasting," Link explains, hardly meeting my enquiring gaze.

See? I knew he'd know about the milkwine thing. Though… "Dancing? Etiquette?" I frown. "But I know how to act in public!"

"That's great," Link comments absently. "You'll find acting is often a necessary skill where diplomacy is concerned."

Diplomacy? I stare at him dumbly, but he doesn't seem to take notice. "Diplomacy?" I blurt out. "You expect me to be diplomatic but you won't give me diplomacy lessons?" I'm getting indignant. "Since when is dancing more important than diplomacy?"

Link smiles. He really has a nice smile, damn him. "Knowing how to dance is a valuable tool to create positive impressions, which are in turn a key element to good diplomatic relations. But don't worry. Diplomacy is also on the list. Trust me, you've got a lot to learn." Oh, goody. "And by the time I'm done with you," he adds, "you'll be the queen everyone wants you to be."

Maybe that's why I'm so panicky, I consider, choosing to not answer him and looking out my window instead. Now we're high above the clouds. I've never been above the clouds before. It's really magical, especially with the sun setting and dyeing the sky in pinks and oranges. I can't help but gasp. Link, having looked away from me to study the slow progress of our plane on the electronic map display, turns at the sound. Thankfully, he doesn't ask any questions to which he already knows the answer. That's one thing to be grateful for, I guess.

I'm still stressed. I'm still a bit under shock. The past week went by in a sort of haze.

Do I want to be queen?

Malon had been pretty emotional about the whole thing. When she'd heard about it, she'd grown so excited, it's a wonder the whole of Lakeside didn't hear her. Sure, she'd been sad at the idea of my leaving, but she had also warned me she would never forgive me if I passed up that opportunity. As she said, if I really hated it, I could abdicate.

How clever.

"So…" I begin once again, uncertainly, "You're the one who's going to teach me everything?"

Link glances my way. He says, "Everything, yes, except history, horseback riding, and something which I have cleverly dubbed as 'country managing'."

I'm not sure what everything else might encompass. My agenda looks full enough, frankly. "Who'll teach me those things, then?"

He glances at his palm pilot, scrolling down. I still can't see anything from this angle. He says, "History will be with Impa Shades." He looks up at me with cringing sympathy, but he's a bit joking too. "Severe woman, that. With a nasty cold shoulder attitude."

I blink at him. "Um…"

"Horseback riding will be taught by Sheik Strike." Link continues, looking back at his palm pilot. "He's a quiet guy but competent, from the same firm as me. Country ruling will be taught to you by Rauru Luz, the prime minister."

"Oh," I say without enthusiasm, "I get a prime minister. Great."

"Rauru's a good man," Link comments calmly, with a tiny note of reprimand. "It's best that he's your right hand man than… Well, there are more unpleasant people by far." He's looking a bit glum, like he's thinking about someone in particular. I can't help but wonder.

"Is there something I should be warned about?" I ask, trying to be subtle, except I'm not very subtle. It's one of those things they should teach in school that they don't.

Link is serious, now. He turns his palm pilot off and says, in a very level and controlled voice, "There are many people who could threaten your integrity at court. Once we get there, I'll be sure to take a look at all your guest lists and warn you about problematic cases."

"Um," I say, having a bit of trouble understanding, "if they're a threat to my integrity, why are they on the guest lists in the first place?"

Link smiles darkly to himself, looking at the progress map screen down his row. "Not all problems are murderers. Some annoyances and threats are sometimes people of high standing. Not inviting them would be worse than coping with them. Besides, there are some who have the right to be there and there is little you or I could do."

Oh, joy. This royalty business looks like it's going to be a real handful. "This really is a full-time job, isn't it?"

Link nods with a thin smile. "Being a royal is different from any other job. You can't number how many hours you put in. It's not doing something. It's _being_ something. More often than not, you'll be forced to act queenly twenty-four seven."

I can't help my despaired look. "You mean, I won't ever have time to be myself after this?"

There's a pause. Finally, Link says, "Well, I've thought about that. A lot of royals have lost screws in the past because they were drawn into the fickle world of highness. So I chose to prevent that."

"How?" I ask, because everyone should worry about his or her mental health when it is put at risk. I'm also unable to formulate a longer sentence, since Link's phrases alone are impressive and mind-boggling. How can a person actually put the words 'fickle world of highness' into a sentence and not look like they thought about it half an hour before?

Link smirks. Oh, sexy. "I thought up another course for you. It's called 'Basics'. And its contents have not yet been defined."

I stare at him. He looks blank on purpose now.

"It's a course teaching the future queen how to take the lead and make executive decisions. In other words, the allotted time of the course is spent on doing whatever the hell the lady wants. Slacking off, shopping, reading, swimming…" Having a lusty time with Link Forester, I mentally add to the list, though its really just wishful thinking. "All in all," he continues, "it's your weekly free time."

I feel suddenly moved. "You put a fake lesson in just to give me slacker time?" I ask, bringing a hand flat on my chest. "That's so nice," I say in a breath, because I'm actually speechless and that's the best thank-you I could come up with.

"Unfortunately for you," Link says, "I'm not the only one in charge of your agenda, which means the basics might get cancelled for more history with Impa." When he sees my stricken face ―even though, mind you, I haven't even met Impa Shades yet, ― he shrugs and explains, "You have to promise to put all your efforts into becoming a good queen. We have a month to teach you everything, and it's not going to be easy. I'll only intervene to protect the 'basics' course if you pay attention the rest of the time."

"For all that is holy," I say, horrified, "do not remove my slacker time. I will do anything you want, but don't remove my slacker time."

Link raises his brow, and turns to mind his palm pilot. I notice only too late that my sentence had a double meaning, and I shut my eyes, mentally kicking myself.

"We can start now," Link says, after a suitable moment of silence, "with a bit of an introduction to your future assistants and ministers." He searches his palm pilot. I gaze at him critically. Eventually, he looks up at me, pauses all movement, and says, even as he ―unbelievably― shuts off his palm, "But we're going to do this without my palm pilot, because you've been glaring at it since we've taken off."

He smiles at me, and through my surprise of his observation skills, I manage a tiny grin. He smiles more openly now, before he turns to slip his palm pilot into his hand baggage.

"The main guy you'll want to be sticking to, aside from me," he says, "is Rauru Luz, your prime minister. The Royalty Party chose him, but he's not an active member of the party itself. They chose him because he's an old-time politician, with integrity and a kind streak, and knows his thing better than most RP ministers. He can command respect easily, and he wouldn't seek to supplant you." Link looks thoughtful. "He's in his sixties, and his youngest granddaughter, Tetra, intends to study as his assistant. She's spunky and fundamentally good. You could say she has the best mentor."

Link interrupts himself even as a pretty airhostess comes by to hand us two glasses of water. I wonder why I didn't get to choose my drink. I glance at Link questioningly. He's already charmed the hostess with a dazzling grin, something I find somewhat disconcerting. Is he being charming purposely? She's happily offering him a cognac.

By Nayru, why don't you try and get him drunk to attract him to the back of the plane to shag him, while you're at it, girl?

I want a cognac too.

"No, thank you," Link says about the cognac. He's still smiling that silly seducer's smile. It's like he doesn't realise that the only reason she hasn't yet let us well alone is because he's so handsome and his smile is keeping her beside him. "But perhaps you have sparkling wine? Something light. For myself and my companion."

The airhostess notices me and smiles an accommodating smile. Wow. She even manages to keep her sudden jealousy under control. Impressive. Link doesn't even notice it, and he's observant enough, for a guy.

To Link, she says, "We have no sparkling wine, but we have a Shaker." Smartly, before Link can say anything, she explains, "that's Waker Islands mineral water shaken with three per cent sea flower extract. Served cool or warm," she adds, with a subtle flirty look.

Um, ew. A warm drink other than milk chocolate? Worse: warm alcohol? Gross.

"I know what a Shaker is," Link finally answers with a smile. I refrain from rolling my eyes. Like, duh, he knows. The hostess, clearly uneasy to have taken for granted that he didn't, looks unsure. He continues, still smiling patiently, "We'll have two. Cold, with crushed ice."

"Of course," she says as graciously as possible, and hurries to prepare our drinks. She hands us a drink that looks like a turquoise blue power drink. It's a beautiful colour, but I'm not sure whether it's a safe beverage or not.

Link leans over to me and says, bringing his own glass to his lips, "If you smell it, it smells like the sea. But it tastes sweet rather than salty."

I give it a try. At first I expect it to taste like seawater, but at once my mouth is filled with a soft, sweet drink that tastes a bit of peaches and apples. The crushed ice makes it just heavy enough to quench the thirst. And I can't taste the alcohol much. It's just a somehow warm feeling in my chest.

Oh. Yummy!

Link sees my expression turn from a suspicious frown to a surprised smile. He smirks. "I knew you'd like it." He takes another slow mouthful of his own glass and adds, "You're the kind to like antithetical beverages." He notices my clueless stare and explains, "I mean you like drinks that smell like one thing and taste like another. Salty and sweet, for example."

"Yeah," I say, slowly, "but only if they taste good in the end."

Link's eyebrows rise, but he just smiles to himself as he finishes his glass.

I also finish my drink in silence. Link puts his down and looks contemplative for a moment. Then, he says, "If you're ever in trouble and I'm unavailable ―as in, if something you're unsure about comes around― you can ask either Rauru, Tetra, Sheik or Impa for advice. Sheik and Impa work for the same firm as me, and they're reliable."

I nod, though I somehow could have assumed that was the sensible way of going about insecurity without him telling me.

"I'd like to mention that in the upcoming month, there'll be many public presentations. I called the royal palace in Marcastle before we took off and had events scheduled for you. They'll be spread throughout this upcoming month." At my wide-eyed gape, he hurriedly adds, "Your training will continue all along. As I said, we've got a whole month of work ahead of us. Just consider the events as exams that determine your popularity."

When I speak, my voice is squeaky. "What kind of public events are we talking about?"

Link shrugs, looking unconcerned. Clearly, he's not the one who has no idea what he's doing. "Concerts, benefits, a ball, press conferences, a royal guard review, public hearings, the like."

Oh, yeah, I think with a tinge of sarcasm, just that.

"Before you panic," Link says calmly, "know that either Sheik, Tetra, Rauru or I will always be standing right behind you, just in case. Not that, once we're through with your education, you'll actually need us around."

"Has it ever occurred to you," I ask, "to hire someone who'd actually fit the part? Couldn't you have invented this person a past, and just gone ahead and have them play along? Nobody would have known."

Link's gaze sharpens. He turns to look at me and says, very slowly, very deliberately, "Zelda, _I_ would have known. It's bad enough that the country is in such shambles. If our firm had taken a fake on top of it, I wouldn't have wanted anything to do with this nation anymore."

"You're that patriotic?" I ask flatly, a bit doubtful.

"I believe in basic principles," Link simply explains. "It doesn't matter if it's a person or a whole nation. I have values, and amongst them is the belief that a dead man's will ought to be respected."

I blink at him. "Um. I beg your pardon?"

He looks tired, now, but not at me. "I failed to explain everything to you back in your friend's home. I didn't want guilt or a sense of duty to affect your decision. As you already know, the Royalty Party was steadily rising even before Nohansen's death."

I nod. He's basically summing up the past few months and there's nothing new there. Thanks to Anju, I was mostly up to date with the latest political information.

Link continues after a breath. "In spite of his unfair treatment towards your mother, Nohansen was an intelligent, provident man. He saw that his own party would lose the next elections. Before his death, he asked for a change in his will. He asked that all his money be wired to your mother and asked the Royalty Party and ministers' cabinet to consider you, his first and only child, as a future ruler."

Well. That's new.

"Technically," Link says, "he left no money to you personally, but since your mother is dead and you are his only next of kin, your financial worth has definitely increased since his death. It's just a matter of meeting his lawyer. On top of that, most of the Royalty Party respected your father greatly. Their political views varied, but generally, the RP agreed that a convenient transitional leader could be a previous president's child. In this case, you."

"And," I say calmly ―a surprising feat, since I'm a bit shocked that Nohansen would have remembered mom and I, ― "you're glad that they observed his will so you agreed to help them."

"In short," Link says smoothly, "that's it."

"Hey," a nearby neighbour from the other side of the aisle, on Link's side, "are you talking about the future ruler of Hyrule?" It's a middle-aged man, on the obese side of fat, with a heavy moustache and a red, excitable face.

Link and I exchange glances.

"I couldn't help overhearing," the man exclaims joyfully. I'm shocked by how loud he's speaking. "You're talking about Nohansen's child? No way." He leans over to consider me. "Hey, you do look like the old Nohansen! No way! The Royalty Party is considering you? No way," he says, for the third time.

Now, people are standing up in their seats and straining to catch a glance of my face. The airhostess too is looking our way, owlishly.

I'm too embarrassed for words. I can feel myself go red from head to toe. Link's hand brushes mine, as though to reassure me. I open my eyes just in time to see him adjust a business-like air on his features and stand in the aisle.

To the excited passengers of our first-class section, Link says, "Um… Ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid that at this point any information regarding the upcoming fiction film entitled 'The Nohansen Myth' will have to be kept secret. The production should end in two years' time but if you're curious to find out who might play the main role, I'd like to present to you Zelda Harkinian."

My eyes snap open so wide, it's unbelievable. Link has turned to me and is smiling. He's offering me a hand to help me up as well.

I try to be as gracious as possible. I stand and smile at the many eager faces in front of me, and even attempt a wave. I realise that no one ever looked at me with such admiration before. I'm a bit stunned.

"If it isn't too much to ask," Link says patiently, "I'd like to keep Miss Harkinian rested, so that she can focus on her audition. There will be no autographs or interviews at this point." Then, with a completely fake grin at the loudmouth neighbour of his, he explains, "We were simply discussing a primary script. What you've heard today might not in actuality show up in the movie itself. We were merely exploring her character."

The obese man nods, looking as surprised as I'm feeling. "Of course. I'm sorry to have intruded." He looks up at me critically. "Though I've never heard of an actress named Zelda Harkinian."

Link adopts a sort of indulgent air. "She's new to film productions. This'll be her first. I'm her agent, and though she hasn't done the audition yet, I'm confident that she's got what she needs for a brilliant career."

Wow, Link is amazing. He just stood and made something like that up? I need to know his secret to self-control. I could definitely use something like that.

Many people clap politely. Are they going to get a shock when they realise their first assumptions were correct! I try to look demure, then the neighbour wishes me good luck, and that good luck immediately comes to my aid in the form of the pilot's voice asking us to fasten our seatbelts for the approach and landing.

I hurry to obey the pilot, and praise whoever is watching over me for the great timing.

Link, too, sits back down, and fastens his belt. He looks at me, out of the corner of his eye, and the blueness of it twinkles in an amusement only I can fully comprehend.

I then realise that Link and I have just lived through our first inside joke, and that the movie beginner story is our secret number one.

As the plane shudders on the air currents and the pressure varies, making it painful on my ears, I can see clouds flutter by us. I'm holding onto my armrests, trying to maintain an air of calm but having trouble to keep my heart in my chest.

What if something bad happens and we crash, I wonder even as the ground objects grow steadily bigger through my window. I've seen plenty of stories in the past years about plane crashes. I try to remember the safety video.

Link leans towards me, casually whispering in my ear, "The only reason people make a ruckus about plane crashes is because they're so rare. If it were as common as car accidents, and they didn't cover them anymore, then you'd have reason to be worried. Air transit is still the safest means of travel to date."

I glance at him, wondering how he could have guessed my thoughts. I guess my anxiety is pretty obvious, but still. "But what if we're the ones who―" I don't dare to finish my sentence, in case someone even more nervous than me overhears me and panics.

"At this moment, there are approximately six thousand planes in flight over the whole Hylian Alliance The chances that we should be the one flight to turn ill are slim to none." He looks so confident about what he's saying that I relax a bit. "Besides, this company is thriving enough that its planes are replaced regularly for new, more efficient models."

"Okay," I breathe softly. Outside my window, I see open fields turn into suburbs and increasingly dense building complexes, with larger, busier streets and boulevards and highways. We're descending fast and I can soon discern the colour of each car on the highway below us. I hold onto my armrests, with excitement now. In the distance, I can see a couple of tall buildings: probably the beginning of Marcastle's downtown. I can't even begin to fathom how many shops are begging for my visit.

"Say, Link," I ask as I brace myself for the landing, "Do I get an allowance?"

**That was for chapter 2! **

**Note aside, the Wood Scouts thing is inspired by my father's wish to syndicate his own Scout troupe back when he was a teen. He always was kind of a revolutionary. They kicked him out because he'd spread the anarchist syndicate movement amongst his friends and comrades. He was never part of Scouts again, though he did some actual military training. I thought it'd be cute to say it, because when Dad told us about his attempts at syndicating his Scouts troupe, I was all like, 'Wow, Dad, you're so cool!' Just another one of those moments. :)**

**Anyhow, I invite you to review.**

**Love,  
CM**


	3. Admirer

**Ah, here's chapter three, where things finally get fun. This is where we're introduced to Marcastle palace, the place where most of the story (not all, but most) will be happening. It is also where we get an idea of what palace life might be like for Zellie from now on, and where the plot thickens.**

**A lot of people have voiced a resemblance between this story and the _Princess Diaries'_ plot. Yes, the outset might be easy to relate, but I assure you I have not attempted a remake of tPD. From this chapter on, things are drastically different. I made a conscious effort to make this story different in many senses. For one, Mia from the _Princess Diaries_ was a geek and a reject who went from lousy freak to total looker. She was also extremely clumsy and usually tended to make a mess of everything. This isn't what I wanted to do.**

**Realistically, most girls aren't total freaks like Mia. I wanted Zelda to be as regular and average as possible: not ugly, but not the type to flaunt her beauty, not stupid, but not completely educated, not incompetent, but not confident, not humourless, but not hilarious. I wanted Zelda to be as normal as a small-town girl could be. The changes she might undergo are therefore not much of a stretch.**

**In short, this isn't a make-over story. It's a dramatic yet comedic and light-hearted story about a normal girl in an unusual place.**

**I hope that makes sense and helps you understand what this is about. :) If not, I guess you'll just have to read on to get my drift. **

**Warning: None. Well, same as the previous chapter, I guess.**

**Have fun!**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Admirer"**

Obviously, the palace has to be immense.

That's what I'm thinking as I step out of the taxi and see that the front yard is practically the size of a football field, except without white lines. A massive oval shaped fountain is gurgling in the middle of the driveway curve, with a spray at least three meters high. The palace alone is the size of a big shopping mall.

And it's gorgeous, all in white stone, with oxidized copper roofing. There are even three big towers, the tallest one at the entrance with a big clock on its face. It strikes three in the afternoon even as the taxi driver dumps my two big suitcases beside me and says, "Good day, and good luck, ma'am."

The clock bell chimes thrice. As the taxi drives away, I turn to Link, who picked up my suitcases, and ask, "Does it ring every hour? Even during the night?"

Link turns then squints up at the tower. Farore, he's handsome. Eventually, he looks back at me, smirks, begins climbing the front steps of the palace, and answers, "Yes. It used to be every fifteen minutes, with two different chimes, one for hours and the other for quarters. But it drove too many ministers mad. So they reprogrammed it."

No wonder. That thing is loud.

"And it takes a dozen madmen to get things to change around here?" I ask, hurrying to follow him up the steps, "Or just one or two?"

Link laughs. He doesn't even break a sweat at carrying both my suitcases. And I know they're heavy. I packed them myself.

"If that makes you uneasy, you'll change things around here once you get titled. You're working to become a queen, remember?"

"Not yet," I remind him, rather, and we enter the immense foyer of the palace. The ceiling is three stories high, with two dark varnished wood balconies overhanging the beautiful tiled floor. Winding staircases rise to connect the first and second floor to the one above. They're elegant and made to be descended while wearing a ball gown.

And the five-level chandelier is breathtaking.

Link hardly even glances at the stunning décor, though. He just carries my suitcases across the shining floor towards a side double door. I hurry to follow after him. It's not like I want to get lost in here or anything.

An old woman with a red dusty apron appears in a perpendicular hallway. Actually, she's more like a dusty old crone herself, with wide, bulging eyes. Her nose is immense and covers a wrinkled face. She sees Link hurrying by, and sends him a furious glare.

"Link Forester!" She croaks loudly, commandingly, and Link halts suddenly, cringing.

I pause, curious. This old, white haired woman looks like she's dealt with mischief in her time, and it has trained what would have been a weak, gentle voice to become an ominous, threatening shriek.

Link turns to her, and for the first time, I see him looking like a five year-old preparing to be scolded. He smiles apologetically.

"Hey, Koume."

"Link bloody Forester," the hag screeches, hobbling over to him. She's tiny, but her commanding presence makes her seem immense compared to the cowering Link. "You're the one who ate all my apple cobbler last week, you little moblin!"

I can't help but find the sight of tall, handsome Link Forester, looking smart in his Terminian suit, getting yelled at by a dwarf-like little witch with shaky, parchment hands and a little red apron. She hardly reaches his collarbone she's so small, and that's including her massive chignon!

"Koume," Link says, raising his hands as though to calm her down, "look, I can explain―"

"Oh, don't you start, you bokoblin, you!" Koume seethes, though she's really looking funny rather than scary. "I asked all over and no one 'fessed up. I prepared it specially for little miss Tetra and the boys and you ate all of it!"

Link is looking a bit exasperated, though I notice a little light of affection for the old windbag in his eyes. He says, trying to hide his amused fondness, "Koume, I'm sorry. But it was looking so delicious in the fridge, and Gonzo and I couldn't help it."

Koume apparently doesn't know what to say to this. Her little bony fists are shaking in mid-air, and she's twitching a bit, and then she screeches, "Gonzo! Oooh, when I get my hands on that big lump, he won't run fast enough! Oooh, when Kotake hears about this―" She shakes a fist at Link, who smiles at her in sincere affection.

"Look, Koume," he says, bending down to put an appeasing hand on her tiny shoulder, "what do you say Gonzo and the boys do some cooking with you to apologize for their gluttony? I'm sure Tetra will understand."

"And what about you?" Koume squawks. "Don't think I haven't noticed you getting out of duty just like that, Link Forester!"

Link stands to full height again, and raises his hands apologetically. "I have work to do." Then, as though he just remembered that I'm there, he turns to me and says, to Koume, "By the way, I'm sure you haven't met Zelda Harkinian, the possible future queen of Hyrule?"

Koume simmers down and she looks behind Link at me. Her big, globular eyes examine me from head to toe. Then, her wrinkled face breaks into a toothy grin. She hobbles over to me, outstretching bony arms and hands, making a little squeaking noise beneath her breath.

When she hugs the contour of my waist, I'm surprised at her strength.

"Oh, the little missy is finally here!" She moves away from her hug and shoots Link a glare that makes his smile turn apprehensive. "Did you mistreat her, you little hooligan?"

"Can't say I have," Link says, obviously amused by Koume's antics.

Koume still looks suspicious. She glances up at me, and I smile.

"Link was very kind to me."

Koume grumbles, then says, a bit more audibly, "Wait 'til he eats _your_ cobbler, girl, and we'll talk again. Little piglet."

Link refrains from laughing and looks exasperated, "Oh, come on, Koume. It was just a pie, not a ten layer wedding cake."

Koume throws her tiny, bony hands up in the air and screeches, "It was _just a pie_ to you, Link Forester, but to a _real_ alumnus of culinary arts, it was a delightful home-made apple cobbler baked in an antique stove! Children everywhere would kill for some of my home-made cobbler, you shenanigan!"

"Alright," Link says, trying to calm her down just a bit, "alright, I get it. Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll get up extra early tomorrow morning to help you make another one―"

Koume says rather dramatically, but I'm sure it's a wink that she sent my way as she spoke, "You better."

With a swirl of her red apron, Koume moves down the hallway where Link and I came from. By this point, I'm refraining from laughing out loud.

Link seems on the verge of saying something, when suddenly, I hear Koume, somewhere in the distance, cry out in a tortured voice, "No one understands my artistic talent!"

It's all Link and I can do not to laugh until our sides burst.

And, really, this place actually seems like it might not be so bad after all. I miss Anju and Malon, of course, but maybe once I'm queen I can invite them over or something.

When finally our laughter subsides and Link can straighten up, though not without losing his mild grin ―which, as I'm sure I've already mentioned, makes him sinfully handsome, ― he confides, to me, "That was Koume Rova and, actually, Koume doesn't know that Tetra and I split the cobbler between all of the assistants and the only reason no one confessed it is because Koume's fury happens to be legendary."

"I see," I comment. "Was it worth it?"

Link looks up to the ceiling and says, with a little laugh that I smile at, "I'd gladly do it again."

With a resolute smile, he prompts me to follow him again, and we continue down this luxurious, carpeted hallway in peach tones. Soon, we hear another female voice, though this one is radically younger, spunkier, and more controlled than anything Koume could possibly have mustered.

"… We can't sit Darmani Stonefist next to Kaepora Gaebora, and you know it, Niko. Last time, Gaebora nearly bored him to tears with all his jabbering. If we do it again this year, heavens know what Darmani will resort to. No, you have to change him."

Round the corner turns a young woman in a casual suit, holding a clipboard. Her bright blonde hair is pulled up in a messy bun, with her shirtsleeves rolled up. In her feet, instead of pumps, I see clean tan sandals. Her face is pretty, but a bit haughty. Her eyes are sharp like Link's, but not nearly as mysterious. Slightly behind her, a small, thin, twitchy, pasty-skinned looking young man ―though he really looks more like a nervous boy with big teeth in bad need of orthodontia― is scurrying after her. He seems out of place next to this competent young woman. I assume this is Niko, the one she was speaking to.

The pretty girl looks up sharply, then, when she notices that she and Niko aren't the only ones in the hallway. Her face lights up when she sees Link and she says, in an unmistakably teasing tone, "Link Forester. Have you managed to elude Koume for the moment or was she unusually accommodating today?"

"The latter," Link says pleasantly. "I put her on Gonzo's traces. Has he returned from Waker Islands yet?" To me, he whispers, "She's also guilty for the cobbler incident."

Which means that this is Tetra, the prime minister's granddaughter…

Wait. Hold up.

_This_ is Tetra? Wow. By Din, she's far more presentable than me. She has this space-consuming presence that makes me feel self-conscious. Okay, let's face it, she's way prettier than anything I could hope to be today.

Tetra keeps on smirking as she stops in front of us. "Gonzo is due to come back tomorrow."

At her side, Niko gives a little squeak and says, "With Aryll."

Tetra's eyes widen as though she was just reminded of something. "Oh! Yes. Your sister Aryll is coming over for the month. She called while you were away. Gonzo is escorting her here."

Wow. That's a lot of new information right there. Link has a sister? It just goes to show how much I don't know about the know-it-all.

"And…" Tetra trails off as she steps aside to examine me behind Link. Her eyes do a head to foot scan of my figure, than she smiles a bit and asks, "I suppose I'm looking at Zelda Harkinian?"

I nod weakly, because her self-confidence is ten times mine and there is no way I could be queen if someone like Tetra wasn't chosen for the role.

Tetra, though, seems pleased with me, for some reason, and outstretches her hand. "Tetra Piraetes, native of Waker Islands." Oh, so that's why she isn't in my place. She isn't a native Hylian! "I'm head assistant to the prime minister and perhaps your future personal secretary." She looks at Niko then, and, in the same efficient tone, says, "This is Niko Young. He's just here for a summer job as my help, but he's good."

Niko's pale face seems to grow flush with pleasure. Tetra's eyes seem genuinely caring there, for a moment, and I realise that she's not just efficiency and amusement rolled into a pretty shell. She seems to actually appreciate her team. I wonder if they're all as nervous as Niko, though.

To Link, she says, "I trust she's ready to be presented to Impa, Sheik and my grandfather?" Link nods obligingly. Satisfied, she explains to me, "Rauru Luz, your prime minister, is my grandfather."

I nod and smile. "So I was told."

Tetra sends grinning Link a glare. "Alright, buster. What else did you tell her?"

"Nothing," Link says. "Much."

Tetra rolls her eyes and takes my arm with hers. I'm surprised at her familiarity, but it all seems fitting. She looks like a confident, arm-grabbing person, really. To me, she confides, "Link's tendency to know everything is rather upsetting. Especially when he doesn't always feel compelled to share what he knows."

I stare at her for a moment, then nearly melt. "I am so happy to hear I'm not the only one left in the dark," I say, earning myself a disgruntled, surprised look from Link.

Tetra laughs. "I think we might get along, you and I."

"Hey," Link exclaims when Tetra begins dragging me down the hallway, Niko and he following with my luggage, "When exactly did I fail to come forward with information?"

Tetra looks up as she keeps me walking a steady stride, "Let's see. How about last year, at the New Year's function, about Dampé Keeper, and then the Summer Festival in Kakariko about Skull Tulla and that time at the Colossus―"

"Okay, fine, I get it," Link grumbles. I can't help but find all his arguments with the palace staff humorous. He seemed on top of everything on the plane, but it's nice to know that some others might actually better him in arguments ―and that they're on my side.

Returning her attention to me, Tetra says, "So. May I call you Zelda for now?" I nod, and she smiles a pretty grin. "Great. I'm glad you're here. As Link may have told you, we've got plenty of work on our hands to ensure that the ministers of the Royalty Party accept your coronation unconditionally. Of course, considering that you're basically coming out of nowhere ―no offence," she interrupts herself.

"None taken," I smile, trying to keep up with her strides.

"Oh, good. Well, anyway, considering that you're coming out of nowhere, we can't just make you queen. As I'm sure you've concluded, we have to present you to the people, make you a sort of superstar in a month only, because you have to surpass anyone who wants the same title. Now," she hurriedly adds when she sees my wide-eyed expression, "don't worry. We've got it all figured out. I've already enlisted the help of a couple of celebrities to boost your popularity amongst the masses."

"I have to surpass someone?" This is new. Why didn't Link mention this? "Who is it I'm competing against?" I ask, a bit breathlessly, still trying to keep up.

But Tetra doesn't seem to hear my question. She says, "As for your status in comparison to other royals and presidents, we've decided to organize, as Link might have told you already, a set of events and parties for you to mingle in."

Glancing at Niko, who seems to take notes on everything that is being said, she orders, "Before I forget, note that we haven't extended an invitation to Quill Feathers, the ambassador of Waker Islands. Have Senza do it; he's good with words."

Niko nods, and breathlessly tries to keep up as he jots down everything Tetra just commanded. She turns back to me and continues on her thought train.

"Until then, you'll be taking lessons and doing a couple of conferences for anxious journalists. It's nothing you can't handle, I'm sure."

One can only hope. They still haven't told me whom I'm competing against. I glance at Link and wonder why he never mentioned that _minor_ detail. Why in Hyrule did he act as though the title was already mine?

Jerk. I can't believe I got trapped like this.

We reach a big ballroom at the end of the peach hallway and my anger dies temporarily. It's in deep red and gold, a mix of grandiose and delicate and other words that can't come to me at the moment because part of my brain switched off at the sheer beauty of this hall.

"This is the red ballroom," Tetra explains when she notices my awe. "It was redecorated in the third age and recently restored. It's used mainly for small celebrations. For big things like your upcoming coronation, we'll be using the Gold Ballroom. You might have seen the double doors leading to it under the staircases in the lobby."

I shake my head. "I may have seen them, but I was busy admiring the lobby," I admit with honesty.

Tetra smiles cheekily. "You really haven't been to big places before, have you?" She sighs. "It's just as well. The last thing we'd want is for you to grow cynical and jaded."

I notice out the ballroom windows that there's a big lake in the back. "Is that a park?" I can't keep the excitement out of my voice.

Tetra looks in the same direction as me. "It's the back of the palace grounds. There's a small lake and a massive rose garden. In the spring, we host a flower show with arrangement contests. And every year, there's a new flower variety presented. Maybe if you're chosen as queen and that everyone likes you, you can get a flower named after you."

"A flower named Zelda?" I say in surprise. "That would be strange, wouldn't it?"

"Hardly," Tetra shrugs. "People in other countries do it all the time." She turns back to look at Link and, entertained, asks, "You doing fine back there?"

Link, still carrying my luggage, glares at her, though he still can't hide a note of good-humour out of his eyes. "You're begging to be throttled, so be careful what stick you poke me with."

"A ten-foot one," Tetra answers back with a sunny smile. Then, to Niko, she says, "We have to check what flavour of punch the caterers will be serving. Ask Nudge to call them." Niko, as obediently as ever, writes down exactly what she said. "Also," she continues, "go get my grandfather and, if you find them, Sheik and Impa―"

"Beat you to it," a young man's voice says. I turn my head and see a thin but muscled blonde, his bright brown, almost red eyes looking a bit sleepy. "And, F.Y.I., Impa's not in the palace right now." Hey, he's cute. His blonde forelocks fall a bit over his eyes. When he speaks, it's like he's being lyrical, even though he's clearly Link's age and uses the same lingo as Malon and I.

He's standing in the doorway we've just reached on the other side of the ballroom.

Tetra makes a 'there you are' face and grabs his arm, still holding onto me. To me, she introduces, "This is Sheik Strike, the elusive riding instructor. He'll be teaching you how to look smart while trying to control a horse. If you can tame him first."

With a lazy roll of his eyes, Sheik says, "You're exaggerating."

"Quit the complaints," Tetra says. To Niko, she repeats, "Can you still go get Rauru, Niko? We'll be in Zelda's apartments in two minutes."

Nodding, Niko hurries past Sheik and disappears beyond the doorway. Sheik nods at Link, who seems to return the greeting. He says, "May I join your happy party?"

Link smirks. "You get to carry luggage for that generous offer."

I refrain a smile as Link and Sheik engage in another of the palace's apparently common arguments. Tetra squeezes my arm, dragging my attention back to her.

"We had your rooms renovated for a modern touch." She says. "Right this way."

I follow her into what seems like a dark green dining room with enough places for thirty guests all year round and out another door with a long white hallway. The windows here, luminous, give onto the lake and park as well. But instead of heading down this hallway, she leads me up a broad white marble stair. Here, another wide, luminous hallway stretches out, following the general outline of the ground floor one. We walk down it, our footsteps muffled by a thin, pink carpet. A dozen closed doors on the side opposite the windows trail by as we walk.

Finally, Tetra stops in front of the last door in the hallway. From her pocket, she pulls a set of keys and unlocks the old-fashioned door. I expect it to creak when she pushes it open, but it doesn't. It seems they oiled it on top of everything.

"These are your quarters," she says as I step into what looks like a master suite from an expensive hotel. On one whole side of the room, immense windows let in the natural light, but they're half covered by opaque beige curtains. The walls are a warm beige colour, with a high ceiling. The floor, without the carpet, is dark hardwood, recently re-varnished. The furniture is big and comfortable, not antique, but modern, in dark beige. There are a couple of dark purple articles here and there, to add colour, but it's not overwhelming.

In the first part of the room, where Tetra and I are standing, I see a massive flat screen television, with all necessary components. I notice a closed laptop on a rectangular coffee table. There's a huge library of movies and books against the wall.

In the back of the room, I see a king-sized bed with thick coverlets and enough pillows to build a fort. Next to the bed, on a square table, is a wireless phone with a bedside lamp. Beyond that is a huge bathroom with dark marble fixtures you only see in decoration magazines.

"We figured the queen should have the best," Tetra says. I turn to her, still speechless. I've been bombarded with so much information in the past half-hour that I get a pang of fatigue.

Link and Sheik enter with my suitcases and both smirk nearly identical smirks at my stupefaction.

"Not bad, eh?" Sheik comments. "We had trouble deciding on the colour of the curtains."

"It's perfect," I breathe. It's hard to say much more. I've never been surrounded by such luxury before. If Anju could see this, if Malon could share this, it really would be great.

There's a couple of hurried footsteps in the hallway outside my room and soon, Niko is back with us, followed by an elderly, wise-looking man.

I can only assume this man is Rauru Luz, my ―possible― future prime minister. Somehow, that makes me emotional. He looks sagely, with white hair and a bald spot. His sort of aged face seems truly benevolent, with wrinkles on his cheeks and at the corners of his kind eyes, like he's smiled too much and it's left marks on his face. Right now, he isn't smiling, but I assume it's because he's just too caught up in the moment, like me.

Then, suddenly, he notices me, and smiles ―finally― in relief. Coming forward and engulfing my hand in one of his large ones, he says, honestly, "Miss Harkinian. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise," I say, a bit awkwardly, because, really, how often does one meet their prime minister without prior preparation?

Rauru doesn't seem to care about my unease. He turns to Link and asks, "When do we start the lessons?"

Link, apparently familiar with all these people who, for now, are strangers to me, says, "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I squeak, and this, for some reason, causes everyone else but me to laugh good-naturedly.

Oh, come on. Why don't I get a day's vacation at least? I most certainly deserve one.

Still, as they continue laughing, I feel something warm inside me. Okay, so maybe I don't get weekends and the lessons are going to be tough, but at least they're offering me a good environment and future life. There's little more a girl could ask for. Right?

Reality check: I'm still miffed that Link never mentioned that there was a race for the throne. Had I known, I wouldn't have bothered entering. Realistically, there is no way I can win.

"So, where is Impa, exactly?" Tetra suddenly asks.

Niko, looking apprehensive, mumbles something along the lines of, "She's downtown at her office. She had reports to fill in."

Oh, that's right. My fourth teacher, Impa Shades, is M.I.A. Everyone makes some sort of 'ah' noise, as though such a thing had hardly ever occurred to them. That just kind of makes me apprehensive. Even though Impa seems to get along with these people ―to which follows the conclusion that she can't be all bad― how do I know she won't make my courses a living hell?

And wow. That's another thing. I haven't known any of these people more than half an hour ―Link not included; he's always the exception― and I'm already making assumptions regarding my future here? As Talon Ranch would warn me, I need to slow down before some twelve-wheeler knocks me over at the crossing.

Hm. Regionalisms. How I don't miss your inelegancy.

Still, I think Talon may have been just that much wiser. What if I get all excited and, before I know it, the metaphorical twelve-wheeler comes barrelling down on me and I can't put the brakes on? What will I do _then_?

I think I should put my first day here to use and plan an escape route. Just in case. And, who knows? Maybe it'll actually come in handy.

"Well," Tetra finally says after another bout of conversation to which I didn't even participate, "I have some more arrangements to make. I trust if you have any questions or requests, you'll call me." She indicates my phone. "My number is pre-programmed. I'm on call at all times." She shoots me a last cheerful smile and clip-clops out of my suite, still looking as efficient as she did when she introduced herself, Niko hot on her heels.

I think I'll have a course added to my schedule: 'How to Look Competent'. If I don't manage actual efficiency, I can at least fake my way through it. Tetra should be my mentor.

"You can ask Link for night calls instead, if you have problems, actually," Sheik says calmly, interrupting my thoughts, though I'm sure he sounds a bit sly. "He's in the rooms to your left when you come out of here."

Link shoots Sheik a thin smile. Then, to me, he says, a bit more pleasantly, "I should be available at all times for the upcoming month, if there's ever a problem."

There's a tiny part of me that's imagining all sorts of nighttime scenarios. I wonder if he sleeps in boxers…?

"Miss Harkinian, I'm really looking forward to our lessons together," Rauru says earnestly, with the kindness of an old man who's just dying to share his knowledge.

I can at least smile at him and say, "As I am, Mister Luz."

"Actually," Link says, "I reserved tomorrow's courses for Etiquette and Posture. But you're sure to have many courses with Rauru later on this month. I certainly hope you're not too upset, Rauru?"

"Of course not," Rauru says. I'm surprised at the totally obvious civility that everyone shows Rauru. Sure, he's a senior member, but he's not exactly going to be affecting my popularity standing, except for the few courses and everything.

"Um…" I ask, and everyone turns to listen to me intently. This never happened to me before. I'm a bit in shock at the moment. "Who manages the country while I'm waiting to be crowned?"

Link, Sheik and Rauru exchange looks awkwardly. I wonder briefly if I asked a taboo question. Still, I figure it's my right to know, since I could be the future ruler and all.

Hey, that sounds so weird to think of. Me? Future ruler? Hah.

"Well," Rauru says, diplomatically, "Since the Royalty Party was democratically elected, they're the ones leading the country."

"And," I prompt slowly, wondering why they're all looking so edgy, "who is the leader of this Royalty Party?"

Once again, the men exchange glances. Then, Link steps forward and places a hand on my upper arm and says, "Well, you see, Zelda, when we were discussing in the plane the people on the guest lists who might represent a danger to you…"

I feel something inside me coil in slow understanding and anticipating disbelief.

"Well," Link slowly says, "one of them, an ambitious politician by the name of Ganondorf Dragmire, is currently ruling the country as steward. He is, coincidentally, the one who thinks he deserves to be king in your place."

**That's it, chapter's over! Hee. **

**So now we know that there's a new challenge for Zelda. She'll have to become more popular with the people than Ganondorf, the man who is also currently aiming at the throne.**

**The next chapter is the beginning of Zelda's lessons with Link. Fun times.**

**See you then!**

**Love,  
****CM**


	4. Beginner

**Hey y'all. Chapter 4's up! Nothing much to say about it except a couple of giggles. School work and college life are impeding on my writing time, but that's not much of a concern to you, trust me. I'll find a way to cope with it and continue to bring you the best of my writing. :)**

**Note: Ganondorf seems to have been expected... But hey, it won't be redundant. Also, people have expressed concern regarding the massive amount of information that Tetra spewed in the previous chapter. Don't worry about it, everyone. It won't be the last time you hear that info. By the time the story ends, you'll have been brain-washed and imprinted with it. Really, I make a point of guiding you through this story. Just kick back and enjoy it.**

**Warning: A couple of Zelink moments... Yay! Same previous warnings apply.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Beginner"**

I don't know if anyone has ever had courses as intense as the one I am currently enduring.

It looks simple enough, at first glance. It's basically about sitting in a chair. That's the first thing I'm supposed to learn in my Posture course. You'd think everyone beyond two years old would know how to sit properly. But, as Link has clearly explained to me, there are many factors to take into consideration when sitting in a chair.

And boy, am I taking them into consideration.

"Keep your feet flat on the ground and your head above your pelvic bone. Bring your shoulders back," Link instructs me as he paces around me slowly, examining me from head to toe. "Keeping your shoulders back and square will ensure, unless you're deformed ―which you are not, so don't even attempt to use that excuse, ― that your neck and back also follow their natural curve. With your back properly placed, you'll find that you're using a lot more muscles than if you were actually leaning on the backrest."

I refrain a whimper, because I'm the kind who likes to slouch. And I hate unnecessary physical exercise.

"You can rotate your neck to relax a bit," Link says, and I refrain another whimper.

It's one thing to try to focus on your sitting position. It's quite another to try to focus on that when you have something very distracting trailing all over you.

Like Link's callused fingers, for example, which are currently encouraging my neck to rotate with soft touches. I have to focus on not closing my eyes and purring.

He doesn't seem to realise what he's doing to me. To him, his fingers are just tools to prompt me into actually doing as he says.

"If you want to relax a bit more, you can put your back's weight onto the backrest, while keeping your heels on the ground. That way, you don't favour a side or another." As he says this, he's pushing on my collarbone gently, and his heat courses through me. "A lot of people who work seated tend to suffer from lumbar problems. This is because they lean forward to work when they are seated. If you can, avoid doing that."

Nayru. Even his voice is caressing.

"I'll be handing you a cup of water," he says now. "I want you to drink it while maintaining the upright position."

I sigh. We're in my room right now, it's ten in the morning, as the clock tower just told us, and I frankly couldn't give a shit about cups of water. All I want to do is pull Link towards my unmade bed and show him who the boss here is.

I look at him as he walks to one of my tables on the side of my room and pours me a cup of water. Actually, it's a teacup, but he reasoned that water was better for concentration.

I swear, he takes this whole posture thing to heart. Most disappointing.

"So," I say, conversationally, to break the heady silence, "If Ganondorf is the steward and the leader of the RP, why did you and your firm and the cabinet of ministers choose to fetch me out? I'd figure that if it's what he really wants, Dragmire should get the spot. It's not like I'd have known what I missed out on. Besides, he's clearly got more credentials than me."

Link returns with the teacup and hands it to me. I realise that in this position, I feel constrained. He doesn't look concerned for my emotional health, though, instead nimbly correcting the angle of my shoulders again, with his burning fingers. I kinda curse whatever demon instilled me to wear a tank top today. Now, no matter where he touches me, I feel it.

"Ganondorf Dragmire's true intentions are rather clear," Link explains. "And we knew that he couldn't be trusted with complete power." He looks into my face intently. "Understand, Zelda, that Ganondorf is not a good man. That's another reason we felt obliged to listen to your father's will."

"So," I say, as levelly as possible without showing that his gaze makes me all squishy inside, "I'm also supposed to protect the country from the guy who gave me the opportunity to be its queen because if I don't, we'll have a tyrant at our head?"

"In so many words," Link says, "yes." He hands me the water teacup. "Drink."

No pressure, Zelda.

I grumble and lift the cup to my lips. I feel Link's gaze on me every second. Suddenly, his hand reaches out to still my cup, which is currently touching my lips. With a focused sort of gaze, he says, "Slow down."

"Slow down what?" I ask, dumbly, as clearly as possible even though I have an obstacle on my lower lip.

"Don't gulp it down like that. You might choke."

I'm a bit annoyed. Who does he think I am? A five year-old?

"Link," I say, and since the cup is still against my mouth, water comes down my throat, "I think I know how to―" Predictably, I begin coughing on the water that fell the wrong way.

I keep coughing for a minute, with Link looking at me smugly all along. Finally, the coughs subside long enough for me to throw him a glare. When I'm done, he hands me the cup again and says, "Sit straight, and pay attention. If you drink it in sips instead of gulping it down like some dehydrated camel, you might actually prevent such incidents." His tone is a bit condescending, but his other hand is rubbing my back in circular motions, with mild sympathy.

I glare at him over the rim of my teacup. I'm a bit offended at the dehydrated camel remark. I mean, thanks a lot. I'm hardly some drooling humpbacked desert goat, for crying out loud.

"Taking the time to slowly drink something has other benefits. You swallow less air, which helps you not to belch, for instance." Link says this with a funny little smile that makes me roll my eyes. "It also helps you to savour whatever it is you're drinking."

"Oh, gee, Mister, thanks so much. I'd almost forgotten how beautiful life could be. Shall we sing our joy by dancing on some hilltop like happy cow maids?"

It's Link's turn to roll his eyes at my obvious sarcasm.

"Actually," he responds, smartly, as is his custom, "being able to appreciate what is in your mouth at any given moment might actually come in handy for the milkwine tasting course."

"Hm," I say, bringing the cup down from my lips. "Milkwine. Now that's a good idea. Why aren't you giving me milkwine instead? We could have a wine tasting and a posture course, all at once!"

Once again, Link rolls his eyes. He takes the cup from me. I can't help but protest.

"Hey, I wasn't finished!"

"You're not taking this seriously," Link says, placing the cup carefully on the table next to the pitcher of water. He comes back to crouch in front of me and adds, "I'm trying to help you."

"Maybe," I say, feeling a bit ashamed at my previous sarcasm and irony, "I'm not made to be a queen."

Link is silent for a moment. I'm almost afraid that he might acquiesce. But for nearly a whole minute, he doesn't say anything, simply contemplating my face in an inscrutable way. His eyes are deep, but unreadable.

Then, slowly, he says, with a sort of intensity that doesn't surprise me much anymore, "Zelda, if I had, at any moment, thought that you weren't up to the job, I'd have retracted my offer." He continues, in a voice that makes me really warm in the stomach, like a dozen Shakers would, "Not only do you have the potential to be a terrific queen, you also have the attitude that will lead this country farther than Ganondorf Dragmire ever could hope to lead us." His eyes become a bit softer, and he says, "I know it's not easy. But you have to try. If not for Hyrule, then at least to prove to yourself that you can become a true queen."

"You think I can do it?" I whisper, a bit unsure, because this seems like a sort of private moment, and because I'm suddenly unable to make use of my normal voice level.

Link smiles, as perfectly handsome as ever, and says, "Zelda, you just need polishing. But everything you need is inside of you." Which, I'm sure, means he does. Believe in me, I mean.

"Link," I whisper, "what if I make a huge mistake, even if I don't want to, and it's impossible to repair it?"

Link's face turns to a benevolent no-nonsense expression. "The only way to prevent such a thing from happening is to pay attention when I tell you to sit up straight."

Huh. Way to kill a mood, buster. I begrudgingly sit up again. Satisfied that I'm finally paying attention again, Link begins pacing around me once more.

"Bear in mind that keeping this angular way of being seated will only be crucial during your coronation. The rest of the time, just keep your mind on the idea of square shoulders. If you keep your shoulders straight, the rest of your body adjusts itself accordingly."

I can't help but be curious and, as Link keeps pulling a bit on my shoulders with his fingers, I ask, "How will they choose the ruler? And what will the coronation be like?"

Though I can't see his face, I know that he's smiling. I hear it in his voice when he answers, "The ministers are in charge of voting for the best ruler. And the rest will be grandiose." He looks at the ceiling then back at me with a resigned sort of face. "People like drama."

Suddenly, as though the word drama was her cue, Tetra rushes into my room, looking a bit red-faced. Of course, she's as perfect looking as yesterday. She examines me, sitting like a straight-backed moron on a chair, with Link's fingers stuck at my nape, and she says, "We have a situation on the balcony."

Link looks at her, hardly looking as unnerved as she apparently thinks he should be. "What kind of situation?" He asks, conversationally.

Tetra brushes a strand of lemony blonde hair out of her face. "The people want to see the other candidate, you dork. You know, Nohansen's daughter?"

My eyes widen in panic. I look down at myself. I'm wearing plain faded jeans and a blouse. Hardly what you'd call royalty wear.

Link and Tetra, however, do not seem to share my point of view. Tetra grabs my arm and tugs me to my feet. I have to form some sort of protest.

"Wait, I really should change―"

"You're fine as you are," Link says, even as he pushes me from behind. "They want to see your face, not your clothes." Tetra and I look at him flatly. He rolls his eyes, but doesn't slow down our pace. "Alright, most men won't be looking at her clothes."

Tetra sighs exasperatedly. To me, she says, "For now, we can't give you a royal wardrobe. We're still tailoring it. Besides, it's a five minute balcony appearance, not a presidential ball."

"You're tailoring it?" I repeat, a bit bewildered. "But how do you know my sizing?"

Tetra and Link exchange glances. Then, without once slowing down, Tetra says, "We called your friend Malon Ranch. She seemed very enthusiastic, so she gave us your size. By the way," Tetra says, leaning in towards my ear, all the while ignoring my mortification, "you're the only other woman I know who actually has those measurements. They're said to be the ideal shape by all the designers in the Hylian Alliance." She smirks. "I thought I was the only one."

"Ideal measurements?" I repeat, unable to say much more.

Instead of dragging me down the marble stairs at the end of the hallway, they take me down a perpendicular hallway. I see tons of pretty paintings, but we whiz by them too fast for me to actually appreciate them.

"Now," Link says, "We haven't had time to cover the public presentations yet. Consider that for now all you need to do is smile and wave."

We stop suddenly inside a sort of boudoir. The door windows are open, and from outside I hear a clamour. Farore. I really don't want to go out there.

"Wave for me, Zelda," Link says, but I'm a bit dazed. "Zelda."

This time, I focus on him. He looks completely serious. I wonder if he suffers from a high stress level. Somehow, I doubt it.

"Wave for me."

I wave, weakly, and Tetra and Link examine the motion critically. Sighing, Link grabs my shoulders and whirls me so that I face the balcony doors, mumbling, "That'll do for now."

Not exactly the most encouraging comment.

I never did any stage work. This feels critical. I've done oral presentations before, in school, but since I was always teamed up with someone else, like Malon or Ruto, and since they were always the more confident ones, I let them do the talking. I'm really more of a research-the-facts person than a present-the-facts person.

Why me, is what I wonder as I step out into the daylight and apprehensively look down at the crowd.

Oh my Din. A crowd. A crowd of people are cheering and waving at me and taking pictures and filming me, because they wanted to see their possible future queen and Nohansen's daughter. And their future queen might be _me_.

They're photographing _me_!

Link and Tetra, one step behind me, must sense that I'm going into sensory overload. They're clearly more accustomed to massive groups of fanatics. They're smiling confidently and gauging the size of the gathering.

Between his teeth, Link whispers, "Wave, Zelda."

"Smile. And breathe," Tetra adds, looking gloriously pretty when she smiles. In fact, her face doesn't betray that she's anticipating every possible mishap. I'd _kill_ for a face like that.

I do as they command.

To say the crowd is excited to see me wave and smile at them would be an understatement of majestic proportions.

And, all along, I'm thinking, 'Malon told on me about my size?' Worse: the palace had contacted her and nobody had bothered to mention it to me? Um, hello, I know I'm just a figurehead, but it'd be nice to have at least one finger on the pulse of palace activities. I mean, come on. Did they think I'd get a pang of homesickness and want to quit?

Well, not for a lousy phone call, I wouldn't.

But I could definitely go agoraphobic at this rate.

"Alright," Tetra says, looking pleasant, but speaking between her teeth. "Now you're going to stop waving and slowly make your way inside. And even if they ask for an encore, do not obey them."

I do as she says. Predictably, the crowd makes a general disappointed sound. I hesitate. Why shouldn't I wave a bit more? It's not like it costs me anything. I feel someone's hand on my lower back that is pushing me gently back inside. Surprised, I see that Link ―looking sinfully good, as one would guess― is smiling apologetically at the crowd. Still, his hand isn't relinquishing its hold on me. He's insistent.

I go back inside the palace. The howling of the crowd dims a bit. Tetra looks at two domestics waiting by the door windows. She says, "Wait thirty seconds precisely then shut the doors."

I look at both Link ―who dropped his hand from me, unfortunately, ― and Tetra, asking, "Why couldn't I have waved just a little while longer? What's wrong with giving them their encore?"

Tetra says, "It's part of your image. You're good enough to show on demand, but you also have integrity, in the sense that you do not obey to whatever order is given you."

As the two of them begin dragging me back towards my room, I ask, "Is there anything in this whole business that isn't calculated?"

Link's response is curt and to the point: "No."

I'm quiet for the rest of the way. We reach my room again and the door is open. I frown. I'm sure we closed it on our way out.

Link pushes it open. Inside, I see an old woman, dressed in a pale blue apron, who is making my bed. It's true I haven't done it this morning. But this woman looks familiar. She looks like…

"Koume?" I ask.

Link grins. "Nope. She's Koume's twin sister. Kotake."

Um. Okay, how does he know? It's her exact replica. This guy has mysterious ways.

Kotake, upon hearing her name, stops smoothing my covers and looks up. She sees Link, and doesn't seem to notice me at all. Her face contorts into disapproval.

"Link Forester, you little wolfos. What are you doing in a lady's chambers?" She sounds _exactly_ like Koume. This time, though, she's colder and a bit harsher sounding than heated Koume. "Back in my day, young men weren't allowed into a woman's bedroom." As Link is about to protest, she screeches, "No exceptions!"

I refrain from laughing. It seems that the twins Rova have a lot of pent-up animosity towards Link.

"Kotake," Link says, trying to sound reasonable, "I'm needed―"

"No excuses, you sneaky wizzrobe!" You'd think old ladies like this wouldn't be immune to Link's obvious charm. He's the kind to affect every generation, I'd figure. One has to wonder. "I want you out of this room or I'll call security!"

Link looks a bit exasperated. "We don't _have_ a security detail yet."

Kotake looks taken short. She hesitates then says, "Well, if you don't get out of here quick, I'll bodily remove you." She sends him a deadly ―though quite amusing― glare. "Don't wait for me to come over there."

Having come to terms with the fact that normal reasoning would not reach Kotake's arguably senile mind, Link steps aside to reveal me and says, pleasantly, "Have you met Zelda Harkinian, the future queen?"

Kotake's attitude changes astonishingly quick. She examines me critically, then her already bulging eyes seem to widen. A delighted smile makes its way onto her face and she hobbles over to hug me, in the exact same fashion as her twin did yesterday. She even makes the same little happy sound.

But then, quite suddenly, she looks at me severely and says, "If Link followed you in here, you just say the word and I'm calling my sister and we'll show that boy how deep a cadaver gets buried."

I laugh as lightly as possible, though the death threat she just issued in Link's direction is more than clear. It's blatant. He doesn't seem upset by this, though.

"Don't worry," I say, as reasonably as possible. "Link is just in here to help me with my posture."

I can practically feel Link stifle a laugh at my side. Kotake, on her part, didn't miss the motion. With a hawk-like stare, she says, "Posture, eh?" She sniffs sceptically. To Link, she says, colder than an ice cube, "Posture, you little sneak? You think you can pass _carnal knowledge _―" she says this with a bit of disgust, "―off as something as deceptive as 'posture'?"

Link, who until then had been relatively calm, seems to get a sort of punch in the gut. Except he doesn't physically get one. He just looks like he did. He makes this funny face, but, of course, on him, 'funny' still makes him unfairly handsome.

All I can seem to think about Kotake's suggestion is 'I _wish_.'

With a self-control of unknown sources, Link says, though with a bit of discomfort at discussing this with an old crone, "Kotake, this has nothing to do with… well, that." Hey! Does the thought of intercourse with me disgust him like it does her? Bastard. "I'm supposed to teach Zelda how to sit properly."

Kotake looks at Link critically, then at me, standing next to him guilelessly, and then she looks at both of us, and finally, she says, a bit distastefully, "Well, if that's what it really is…"

"It is," I assure her. Maybe a bit too fast, because she fixes me with a suspicious stare.

Then, with sudden, airy detachment, she says, "Fine, then." She picks her laundry basket up and heads for the door. As she is about to walk out, she turns around and says, to Link and I, with a sub-zero level of subtlety, "Oh, and I just remembered that _there's protection in the bedside table_."

With that, she gives a little sniff and exits my room, leaving Link exasperated and me bewildered.

After a whole minute of almost-stunned silence, I whisper, "Is my reputation ruined?"

Link turns to me, his expression lightening into an amused grin, and says, "Of course not. That's Kotake Rova. No one believes her. Not even if she said the truth." He looks at the straight chair where my sometimes-pleasant torture is about to continue. "At this rate, we'll never get to the etiquette courses."

I grab my chance. "You know, we could do an Etiquette 101 course now and keep all the painful sitting for some other day."

Link smirks at me ―why? Why must he look so handsome? ― and says, "Nice try. You're not getting out of this one so easily, so get yourself seated on that chair and keep your shoulders straight."

Grumbling, I shuffle to obey him. He doesn't move. Instead he looks contemplative for a long moment, like he's trying to figure out something about my appearance.

Finally, he asks, a bit wonderingly, "Why on earth would there be contraceptives in your bedside table? You don't have a boyfriend and we don't let anyone in here without prior authorization."

I stare at him blankly. This whole thing about him knowing every single detail of my personal life might one day either kill me from sheer embarrassment or entice me into murdering him. I'd be the Godmother or something.

"You're right, but what does it matter?" I ask back, trying to keep most of the acidity out of my tone. "Leave them. It's not like we're going to find use for them anyway, you and I."

He looks a bit taken aback. Hah! Serves you right, you know-it-all blonde god.

"No," he finally says, focusing a bit more on what we're supposed to be doing rather than what we could be doing, "I suppose not."

This should be a sign of victory, yet I can't help but feel bummed out. Why in Hyrule must he be so focused on my lessons? It'd be nice to see _some_ form of disappointment.

"I'm telling you," he goes on, as though we had no interruption, "how you have to sit at your coronation and during most public hearings. Obviously, this posture can be strenuous after a long time. It's good for the back but also tiring. If you ever feel like slumping, try to do it subtly." He looks around then spots a big armchair in a corner of my room. "For instance, try to relax in that chair."

I'd have kissed him. Instead, I hurry towards the armchair and sit in it. Ooh, comfy. I can tell many novels will be read in this chair already.

"No, sit straight," Link says. "And then try to slump without losing any grace. You're not a bomb bag." Oh, no, my little man, but I can be a bomb, so be careful how you handle me. Whoops. Must focus.

I try to do as he says, but it's hard to slump and still feel elegant. Link purses his lips as he looks as me.

"No. Okay," he says. "Let's try something else. How about you find a comfortable position for now?"

With obvious gratitude, I do exactly that. Hm. Comfy.

"Now cross your legs around the ankles," he suggests, and he bends down to help me do so. Um. Does he think I'm incapable or something?

Oh my. His hands are so warm. I'm very glad I shaved my legs yesterday. Not that it makes a difference, since I'm wearing sheer pantyhose, but whatever. On second thought, he can continue thinking I'm incapable, if it's going to induce him into making contact with me.

"Get a feel for that," Link commands, keeping his fingers on the back of my shin. I refrain just in time from telling him that I most certainly am. "Could you do this again without my help?"

Darn. "Most likely," I say, hiding the fact that I wish it weren't the case. "But if I'm wearing a floor-length dress, what's the point?"

"Relief," Link says, indicating my lap. "It looks elegant if everything about you is organized. Now. You're in a relaxed position, right?"

I nod. You bet, buddy.

Link stands. I still can't believe such a handsome guy is paying so much attention to me. It makes for a nice change since the truckers, that's for sure.

"In that case," he commands, "don't let your neck go all weak. Keep it straight, at least." When he sees the face I make, he says, in his best no-nonsense tone, though he's still smiling a bit, "It's not that hard. People do it all the time. Go on. Don't be lazy."

"I was born lazy," I mumble, but I obey him anyway, wondering what the increasingly loud stomping in the hall could possibly be.

At that very moment, a teen with long blonde pigtails and eyes as blue as Link's pops into my room. With visible enthusiasm, she jumps at my oblivious mentor from behind. Link makes a strangled sound and crashes to the ground. Though demonstrative, this girl doesn't seem to realize she just jumped a sex-god, since all she can find to say ―excitedly, mind you― is, "Missed me, big brother?"

Which is how I know I'm looking at Aryll Forester.

**I know that everyone sat up straight in their chair during this chapter. Heck, I can hardly keep myself from it whenever I re-read this. Therefore, I'm positive everyone obeyed Link's posture commands. Then again, ****I read a couple of things on ergonomy. Link's suggestions are accurate. If you do as he says, you'll be just fine too.**

**And there's a brief intro to Aryll, though the next chapter will get into more detail with her character.**

**That's it for now. Leave a word or something. :)**

**Love,  
CM**


	5. Nurse

**I'm sure you all heard the latest LoZ:TP news, so I won't bother to break it to you. You can check out this page "http (colon, double slash)crazygurlmadness (dot) blogspot (dot) com (slash) 2006 (slash) 09 (slash) thank-you-nintendo (dot) html" (take out all the spaces and replace where appropriate) to read my personal thoughts on the matter. I don't feel like repeating myself. I was rather explicit there, so there's no need for me to say that stuff again. ****Keep in mind** the thoughts expressed on my blog are my own and in no way represent the thoughts of anyone but myself**. You're free to disagree, and especially to share your point of view with me (in a polite and calm fashion).**

**Also, please remember I was using a tinge of irony in there. Try not to get all hot under the collar about it, m'kay?**

**Notes: This chapter is situated roughly five or six days after chapter 4. To give you a timeline, Zelda's arrival in Marcastle marks day 1 of the story (all previous chapters being in the negatives). This chapter is therefore day 6 or 7 on this timeline. This means Zelda's been in Marcastle for a week already. Not that she's gotten used to it, or anything.**

**Additional notes (please ignore): **_WHY_ does my guy teammate (for a school project) have to be so _nice_ to me? WHY? This goes against all laws of nature. I've known this guy for six or seven years now, and started actually talking to him a mere three weeks ago, for heaven's sake.

_Why_ must he be so ready to help me? He hates work! So why is he so patient at ten thirty in the evening? How come he's so level-headed in a crisis? It's _impossible_. He should be _dropping out_ on me. He shouldn't be trying to help me by providing information on all the fronts I can't cover. He shouldn't be so calm about the fact that this project is due tomorrow and all our other teammates deserted us. _I'm_ the calm one._ I'm_ the practical one. _I'm_ the one who knows how to handle crises. I thought I'd have to kick his butt to make him work but _no_. He's _right there_, on stand-by, being some sort of pillar of strength even as I lose my countenance! I am officially stunned. And awed.

It doesn't help that he's good fun the rest of the time, either. No. I do not have a crush on him. After all, maybe he's just in a helpful mood right now, and it really _is_ unusual. I hope so, at least, because if not I'm officially screwed. (Oh, Scarlet and Prophet, SHUT UP. I know you're laughing and asking if you know him and who he is. The answer is yes, therefore I won't tell you. So just SHUT UP.)

**Warning: References to loony cases in a vaguely humorous manner. Could that offend anyone? Warner Bros smashed the Coyote a thousand times, so I wouldn't think so.**

**Please enjoy.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Nurse"**

"I don't know why you're making such a fuss about this. You've got the perfect measurements. It's not something to be ashamed of. It really isn't."

I grumble, but put on my new ivory business suit anyway. Of course it looks great on me, as they all told me it would. But still. Tetra obviously doesn't realise that I don't like people knowing everything about me. What happened to good old mystery? There's no way I can be the perfect femme fatale without that metaphorical cloak.

Obviously, they're not trying to make me a femme fatale. They're trying to make me a queen candidate.

Or, in this case, a nurse.

"So," I ask from inside my immense bathroom, in which I've taken a couple of bubble baths over the past few days ―they were delightful, by the way, "What am I supposed to be doing at this thing?"

Tetra, though I can't see her, is probably doing something productive, like managing press events or something equally smart that I don't know how to do.

Her voice answers me through the door. "The asylum is a hospital of sorts. So you do as you'd do in a hospital. You remember what Link told you about hospitals?" She asks.

I adjust the cream jacket of my suit and observe myself in my large mirror. "Yeah."

"Good. So, technically, this is a publicized event for you to show that you're compassionate and that you care about crazy old loons."

"Hey," I exclaim, stepping outside of the bathroom in a fuss and feeling indignant. "Just because they don't fit into our definition of sane doesn't mean they're crazy old loons."

Tetra looks up from her current task ―she was filing her nails. So much for productivity― and smiles. "I was just teasing you. Apparently, you won't have to do much pretending to show you care."

I roll my eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed. I wish I could be coolly detached from everything. Instead, anything derogatory gets me upset.

Aryll Forester is laying on her stomach on one of my couches and it observing me with a furrowed brow and an elfish smile. Her blonde hair is all split into tiny braids ―my work, from two days ago. I'm proud of how it turned out. She looks great, with her soft bronze Waker Islands tan under those sun-bleached-platinum braids.

I twirl for her, showing off my outfit. I love my cream coloured suit. When she smiles in approval, I know that she does too.

"Ivory suits you," she says, with a grin.

Aryll Forester is one of those perky teens with a love of anything new and different. As I learned upon first meeting her, she'd voted for the Royalty Party and had been giddy with excitement at the idea of meeting me ever since Link had mentioned that he'd be working with the one she is certain will become queen.

In her words, I was way niftier than she'd expected. It was a real confidence booster. That girl totally knows how to make people feel like they're good at life. That's why I've taken to keeping her around as often as possible. She and Tetra get along pretty well, though their definition of work differs slightly: Aryll believes in going easy, Tetra believes in deadlines.

Still, there are no tough feelings between any of us.

"Ivory does suit you," Tetra confirms. "Pastels are really perfect for your type of beauty. They fit your complexion. Plus," she adds with a smile, "they're regal-looking."

"I thought dark red and purple was regal looking," I say, but she knows I'm teasing her.

"Please," Tetra comments, rolling her eyes and putting her nail file away. "That is so middle-ages."

I refrain from smiling and Aryll and I exchange winks.

I got my new wardrobe yesterday. I probably have like, twenty ensembles, a dozen hats, ten pairs of shoes, sandals and boots, socks, gloves, coats, scarves, and one ball gown which ―need I really mention this? ― is absolutely gorgeous. Get this: Tetra says that it's an emergency ball gown. An _emergency_ gown. That means that I'm not going to wear it unless an unexpected event comes up that I can't avoid and for which there's not enough time to sow a new gown.

I could get used to this.

"Who pays for all this?" I ask, indicating my open closet and the room in general.

"Taxpayers," Link says, and I notice for the first time that he was leaning in my doorway. He's looking as handsome as ever ―which is a given― with a light green work shirt and black lined slacks. The creases down the front of those slacks are perfect and crisp. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up and reveal his sinewy forearms. Bugger.

"Taxpayers?" I repeat. "You mean that their money doesn't go to managing the country?"

I'm a bit frustrated by this. As a former taxpayer myself, I can freely say that it sucks to lose a third of your pay to the government. And for what? I just found out the third of my pay, which I could have used to buy decent locks for my previous home, goes to another person's wardrobe. Well, now it's mine, but I'm putting myself in the place of others, here.

"Actually," Link says, coming forward, all the while evaluating how I look ―and I can't decide what he thinks, his face being unreadable, "the amount of money brought in by imposition borders on the five billion rupees. Your wardrobe is hardly a drop in the bucket."

Whoa. Five billion rupees? That's a lot of rupees. In fact, I couldn't spend that many blinks in a lifetime.

"Speaking of your wardrobe," Link continues, a light smile curving the corner of his lips, "Nice job." He says this to Tetra, who doesn't seem to care much for his opinion.

Aryll rolls over on my couch and says, a bit slyly, "We were thinking of cream for today. What do you think of that ivory, big brother?"

Link gives me an appraising look. No mistaking it: he's liking this. Glee! "As I said, it's a nice job."

"Oh," Aryll looks a bit disappointed, "that's it? Come on, say what's on your mind." Her smile is back.

Link notices this, and he points a warning finger in her direction, "You should be careful how you probe. You're not near becoming a talented information gatherer like that."

Aryll shrugs, grinning. "Oh, but there's enough of one in the family. I'm just curious."

Link rolls his eyes. Then, he turns to me and says, "I'm here to say that the car is ready. We're just waiting for you."

Okay. No stress. This is my first real dealing with the press. But that's alright, because Link drilled everything into my mind and I look great and okay, whom am I kidding?

Link must have seen my pale face, because he reaches out to put a warm hand onto my shoulder and ask, in apparently genuine concern, "Hey. Are you alright?"

"You go without me," I say, without thinking much. "I think I'll stay here."

Link adopts a no-nonsense look, the kind that says, 'Come now, you'll be fine.' He has a wide range of these confidence-boosting expressions. I can somehow guess that he's made use of these faces before, with other politicians.

"Zelda," he says ―I really appreciate that nobody in this palace calls me Your Highness, since that would suck― and gently takes my arm, "This is your press event. Not mine. It's going to be okay. Nothing can go wrong."

"Nothing can go wrong," I repeat, a bit tonelessly and with some incredulity.

I'm not made for shows and pretending to be on top of things. That was Ruto's department. And I'm not good at smoothing things over. That was Malon's department.

Link drags me to the exit of the room, Tetra heading out before us. Her pumps tap on the carpet and out of sight. I'm feeling dizzy beyond belief and I haven't even left my room yet!

Aryll, who until then hadn't moved from my couch, rolls over and says, "Hey, big brother. Wait up."

Link turns to look at her, and so I do too. He's still holding me up, after all.

Aryll is stepping up to us, still looking as perky as before. She's wearing a bright pink skirt with an orange ripped tee, and sporting a white skull type of decoration. Her necklaces, bracelets, anklets, and her silk scarf all bear big, stylized white skulls. On her, even skulls look perky. "Can I have a word with Zelda? I promise it won't be long."

Link looks at me. I stare back. Then, he looks at Aryll in mild suspicion. "Why?"

Aryll twirls one of her braids around her finger and says, with innocence, "Girl things. It's urgent," she dares to add with a little cute look, her lips curled at the corners.

Link sighs. I detach myself from his arm. Surprisingly, this doesn't make me collapse. Once he's sure that I'm steady enough, he says, sternly, "I'll be waiting at the stairs." To Aryll, he warns, "Not more than five minutes. Timed."

He gives me one last unreadable once-over then walks out. Green is very much his colour, I decide. It makes him look gentle but solid all at once. Hm…

Aryll waits for him to be out of hearing range, then her little fey smile turns into a conspiratorial grin. "I know you're really worried about this mental ward thing. If you ever freak out, just remember that we've all got some form of lunacy, but that theirs is visible."

I stare at her, wondering how that's supposed to make me feel better. "Um…"

"More importantly," she says, in the same secretive tone, "this is what I wanted to give you." I look down at the folded piece of paper that she just handed me. With a slight smile, she says, "Use this only as a last resort, alright?"

I frown. "What is it?"

"A secret, for now," she says, folding it again for me and slipping it into my pocket. "But it might actually help you today if Link's knowledge fails you."

I don't know what to think, really, but something about Aryll's confidence transfers into me and makes me grin back. "I trust you. Thanks."

Aryll cringes comically. "Ah. No. What did Link tell you about that?"

Whoops. "I mean, _thank you_," I correct myself.

"You're welcome. Now go before my brother comes after you. Not that I'd ever stop him if he did, of course."

The way she says it makes me pause in my tracks and look at her quizzically. "I beg your pardon?"

Aryll looks suitably guileless then. "What?"

There's a moment where I sense that she knows something I don't ―big surprise. But she doesn't do anything except smile quizzically. Eventually, I shake my head and say, "Never mind."

By the time I reach the car, Tetra is buckled in the rear seat, punching a phone number into her cell. Link is waiting, leaning against the hood of the black, nondescript car, looking a bit nervous. To my astonishment, I feel more levelheaded than he looks.

If you don't count the horde of butterflies raving in my gut, that is.

When he notices me coming down the steps, he straightens up. The chauffeur opens the door in the back seat, on the other side of Tetra, and smiles at me. I smile back at his politeness, which seems to surprise him a bit.

Oops. Maybe I'm not supposed to smile at the chauffeur? Maybe I'm supposed to be aloof and detached from earthly concerns?

Oh, come on. That's stupid.

Link, on his part, steps toward me and asks, "Are you going to be alright?"

I look at him, and almost grin broadly. He's concerned for me! Instead, I just smile sweetly and say, "I'm fine, Link. Thank you."

Even though I'm not. But he doesn't have to know that. He looks a bit unsure then. I myself don't understand how I could seem this calm. It's unearthly.

Let's just hope it stays that way until I'm safely cuddled in my bed tonight.

Link looks at me from outside the car, scrutinizing my face, and I try to look as competent as Tetra ―who is calling the asylum to say that we're about to get there and looking very efficient as she does so― but manage only a toothy smile.

Finally, Link's thoughts seem to clear, and he looks more focused. He shuts the door as I reach for my belt buckle. He seats himself in the front passenger seat, and the chauffeur also enters the car.

I expected a limo, at least, but I'm not going to spit on leather seats and air conditioning. This car is sleek.

"What did Aryll want?" Link asks, as the car leaves the palace grounds.

I shrug. I hardly know myself, so I'm not going to share my ignorance with him. "Girl stuff."

"Oh." Link seems a bit put out, but he doesn't inquire more than that. I have to remember that 'girl stuff' excuse. Nobody ever questions it.

The rest of the ride toward the asylum is silent. Almost like we're going to put one of us in ward there. In all likelihood, it'd have been me.

Except it's not like that at all. I'm supposed to pose and show compassion. What kind of joke is this?

"Um," I ask as the car pulls up in front of the asylum and I notice at least twenty journalists, "When I face a patient, how should I act? Like they're crazy? Or should I acknowledge their illness and play along like they're normal?"

"Whatever you think is best," Tetra says, after she and Link exchange looks.

Meanwhile, the chauffeur came around the car and pushed aside a couple of journalists who are enthusiastically trying to take a picture of me through the tinted window.

To me, Link says, "Just put on your brightest smile and ignore them if they ask you questions. Tetra and I will deal with them."

I take a deep breath and think to myself, 'Well, this should be interesting.'

Then, the door opens, and I'm blinded. I blink a couple of times, and still smile a bit dumbly. I can't see anything. I can just hear a thousand clicks, people shouting, people getting excited, and questions ending with 'tell us what do you think of that!'

Crud.

Suddenly, in the impossible array of white flashes, I feel a warm, familiar hand in mine. I blink and see Link's face, smiling at me encouragingly. His body and shoulders also block out the excess flashes. With absurd gratitude, I smile back as radiantly as possible. He helps me out of the car, and puts his arm protectively around my shoulders as we hurry past the many journalists who try to follow us and get a front view.

All I can think is, 'Link is touching me!'

Tetra is supposed to deal with the press. Link's presence at my side is enough for now.

We rush up the front steps of the big white building. It would be peaceful if there weren't all these journalists. There's even a big park where all these people in white coats are walking around with patients in wheelchairs.

I turn my head, still smiling, and look around a bit. Link doesn't correct me. He even slows down so that I can look at the place a bit better. Journalists keep taking pictures, but I ignore them, like Tetra and Link told me to.

They even stopped yelling questions in my ear, for which I'm extremely grateful.

Suddenly, a man dressed in white accosts me. He's immense, and reminds me vaguely of a whale. I smile at him pleasantly ―because so far it's the only thing I've mastered. He looks breathless, like he's been cut off of precious oxygen.

"Miss Harkinian," he says, engulfing my hand in his large, cold wet one, "Jabun Jabu, at your humble service." He inclines his thick neck, and I'm surprised that with a big, blubbery neck like that, he actually manages the feat. "I'm the head of this institution."

Still smiling, I say, "It's wonderful to meet you, Doctor Jabu. I was looking forward to meeting with a great mind such as yours." As we shake hands, the endless clicks continue and increase a bit.

I'm not lying either. I really was looking forward to meeting this guy. Sure, he's not exactly the most seductive man in Hyrule or anything, but Ruto, back in Lakeside, owned every one of his theoretical books.

Ruto's a bit shallow when it comes to fashion, but for the rest, she's a real sucker for science. It's weird, and not many people know it. She cares too much for her fashion victim image. Still, I read a couple of those books, when she insisted I try them. Well, I read and tried to understand them, to be more precise. I can't say I know enough basics to get everything he says about brains and the psyche, but the parts I _did_ get were still interesting.

Jabun Jabu looks more anxious about meeting me than I am about meeting him. It's really weird.

With a big, a bit wobbly smile at the cameras, he leads me inside the building, Link following closely and camera men hurrying ahead of us to get a good picture of me talking with Jabun Jabu.

Link looks impressed that I actually have read 'Functions and Dysfunctions of the Nervous Centre', Jabu's best work. There's no way he could have known about it, actually. I know he was impressed because I glanced at him as Jabun Jabu was walking me down the hallway.

Jabu, on his part, looks exhilarated that I actually _deigned_ to read some of his 'humble work'. I don't make the mistake of mentioning that I read his books when I was but a humble worker myself with a mere college diploma, and that in consequence I had no clue what he was talking about most of the time.

"I must say I'm not a specialist in the field," I say instead, to him. "But I found your approach very clear."

This is a lie. As I said, I hardly understood everything. More like ten per cent of what he wrote. But he doesn't have to be insulted by the possible future queen. Who knows? He may come in handy if I have to lock someone up. Hm. The dark side is taking me. I should stop that.

Jabu's answer to me was 'Did you really think so?' and he's been blubbering since. We're walking down a couple of hallways. And suddenly he shifts the conversation to the place's history. I know about everything he's telling me because Link drilled me. But I pretend to look interested and smile at the places I judge appropriate. In a glance, I see Link smiling approvingly at me, softly. Let's just say it's hard to focus back on what Jabu is saying.

Suddenly, I hear a shriek.

I nearly jump out of my skin I'm so startled. Jabun Jabu looks nervous then, a bit apologetic, a bit worried. We all turn to the source of the noise. I see a middle-aged man, with a big red nose, small eyes and a keen expression. I glance at Link, and he just looks serious, as in 'stay in character'. I'm not about to disappoint him, so I look back at the middle-aged man and try a smile.

A male nurse looks at me apologetically, and says, to the patient who screamed in glee, "Now, Tingle, screaming like that is―"

I notice that 'Tingle' ―what kind of name is that? ― is wearing all green, with a bright green hood, and, amusingly, red briefs over his green leggings. Kind of like a messed up holiday elf. Also, he's not looking at me. He's looking straight at Link.

The nurse turns and observes Link, then Link's shirt, and shows some form of despair. "Oh no. Not green."

Tingle escapes from his nurse's grip and leaps at Link. He's tiny and frail, with only a beer belly. Link looks a bit out of place with this patient clinging to him saying stuff like, "Mr. Fairy!"

"Mr. Fairy?" I repeat, looking at the inevitably funny picture.

Jabun Jabu looks extremely embarrassed. "Tingle believes he is a fairy, and judges anyone wearing green to be one of his kind. He's thirty-five."

I raise my brows and smile patiently. "His name is Tingle?" Because if so, it's no wonder he thinks he's a fairy.

"No," the nurse supplies helpfully when Jabu is helpless to provide a proper answer. "He has another name, but we all took to calling him Tingle, because he doesn't respond to any other name. We have his name on record, but I don't remember it."

I don't really know what to say. I notice that Link is trying to gently pry Tingle off him. The nurse rushes to help him.

"Tingle, Tingle, Kooloo Limpah!" The man is squealing. Their efforts to get him off Link seem futile.

I'm not one to get involved with nutcases. But I've seen enough drunkards in my time to know that the best way to get them out of your bar is hardly to force them into obeying you.

"Hey, there, Tingle," I say, as gently as possible. He turns his face to look at me. He still hasn't let go of Link's shirt. "How are you?"

I realize that a lot of people are taking pictures. I figure that getting Link free is more important than a good image right now, so I ignore them.

"Tingle is doing just fine, ma'am."

I smile at him. "That's great. I see you've met Link, my assistant."

Tingle nods. He's looking slaphappy. I can't blame him: I'd be glad to cling to Link like that too. "Mr Fairy will take me back to the forest where I belong!"

Then, I hear a loud, mocking laugh. I turn, and see a little girl in a light blue patients' dress, looking pale and a bit unreal. She says, "You don't know anything about fairies, old man."

Tingle looks very insulted then. He ―thankfully― lets go of Link and goes towards the little girl in blue. He seems extremely upset. "I am a fairy, you little witch!"

The nurse is now trying to keep them from killing each other. Jabun looks from one to the other, and explains, "The girl is Navi. Her illness is a schizophrenic paranoia with hallucinatory tendencies. She keeps imagining that she has to warn an invisible man about monsters that do not exist."

I look back at the pale, thin girl, feeling my heart swell with sympathy. She doesn't look older than twelve, and she's tormented by her own mind already. I step forward, cutting in front of Tingle, who, for all his cruel words, doesn't seem very threatening. He calms down eventually, and tries to return to Link, only to be held off by a few nurses that have come to help out.

I kneel in front of Navi, smiling as gently as possible. She observes me with a sort of dead look that makes me feel cold. I take her pale, weak hand, and ask, "Navi, who are you trying to protect?"

Navi's eyes seem to liven up just a bit, and she says, "He's a hero. He'll save the world one day. But he needs my help… He needs my help," she repeats, looking at me a bit pleadingly.

Jabun Jabu comes to stand next to me, and says, as though Navi weren't even in front of him, "Probably some childhood book that got to her psyche and affected it wrong. We surmised there's nothing we can do."

Navi's look, which, I'm sure, had been alive for a moment, turned back to stone coldness upon hearing this. For some reason, I feel offended, like Jabun personally insulted me.

"But this is her reality," I say to Jabu. "Isn't there anything we can do to help her at all?"

Jabu frowns. It's like he doesn't acknowledge that Navi exists. He doesn't even look at her. But she seems so miserable! Tingle, at least, invented his world and lives in it without looking conscious of anything else around him. But Navi? She only has one foot in her world, and the other is anchored to a steady, reassuring reality that is trying to reject her.

Even though we can't help them find facts, we can make them happy.

To Navi, I say, as confidently as possible, "Why don't you write down all the dangers that await this hero? I'm Zelda. I'm the queen of this country." Okay, not exactly true yet, but she doesn't have to know the specifics. She's just a child. "I'll find a way to give him your letter. I promise."

I take one of the journalists' paper pads and pen, and write down my coordinates. I give them to Navi then give his belongings back to the journalist. Navi looks a bit surprised, but I'm sure I see hope in her eyes.

"Will you help him too?" She asks, and I nod, with a smile.

"Of course," I assure her with a smile. I don't know what I'm doing, but I figure giving her an outlet for her problems is the only solution. I turn to Jabu and say, as seriously as possible, so that he sees that I mean what I'm saying, "I want her to write those messages to me. Please."

Jabun Jabu, though a bit distant from his patients, clearly judges that I've found a good way to help Navi, bows his head and says, playing along, "As you wish, your Majesty."

There's a silence, then, and I notice that all the journalists are looking stunned. I don't dare meet Link's eye. I think I just made a massive mistake. Clearing my throat, I stand and brush my cream skirt down, putting a hand on Navi's shoulder. This causes a massive series of clicks and flashes to go on.

The rest of the visit is pretty much uneventful. Navi and Tingle, both calmed down, stayed near their rooms as I moved away. Still, they waved back at me when I said goodbye. Everything seemed to be doing fine for a moment. At least until I hear the most dreaded word in the world.

"Speech!" A journalist at the back of the pack is happily inciting.

Link and I pause, and I feel Link sigh, resigned. He looks at me with a subtle, apologetic look. He's clearly saying that I can't get out of this one, and that he can't help me evade it anymore. We have been ignoring the speech possibility all day. We haven't gotten to that part in the lessons.

"Speech! Speech!"

I can't believe Link failed me. I was doing fine, and the one time where I need his know-how…

That's when I remember about Aryll's letter.

**That's it for chapter 5. I think I'll see you on Monday for chapter 6!**

**Jabun Jabu, by the way, is a mix of Jabu-Jabu (Ocarina of Time), and Jabun (The Wind Waker).**

**Anyway. Please leave a review!**

**Love,  
****CM**


	6. Loser

**Hey, chapter 6. I figured since I had so much school work due for next week to finish today, I wouldn't have time to post it, but what do you know, I'm done my eighteen pages report and concept drawings! To celebrate, I'm posting chapter 6. Make no mistake, people. Art studies aren't a piece of cake. I may not get tests as elaborate as those in Sciences, but for sure, the projects are an extensive part of the program.**

**Well, I like it better that way. Less chances to mess up.**

**Notes: This chapter may seem like less of a cheery bundle of joy, but don't worry. _Only in Hyrule_ is supposed to be a feel-good story. :)**

**Additional notes (again, please ignore):** I think Project Boy (as Sweartoad has amusingly dubbed him) has marked a lot of people. XD Thanks plenty to everyone who sent in their opinion and support on the matter. You all made me smile fondly. We'll see if he keeps on his helpful streak (he seems to be so far, in spite of his laziness). For those who care, later that evening (after I posted chap. 5), he called up the other members of our team and told them to get working and help me finish the project. Shocking! The next day he was back to normal. I mean by this that he was back to being lazy.

Which, you know, would be okay if he wasn't so funny and nice too.

… CURSE YOU, PROJECT BOY! You make my life look like some shoddy sitcom!

**Warning: Nothing specific. Just... be warned. 0.o**

**With that said, please have fun!**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Loser"**

" 'Royal Success: First Impressions. A good surprise awaited us yesterday at the Marcastle Hospital for the Mentally Challenged. On the first official visit of her career, possible future queen of Hyrule, lovingly dubbed 'Princess' Zelda Harkinian, daughter of Daphne Nohansen, delivered an impressive speech, discussed common illnesses with Dr. Jabun Jabu and helped a couple of patients. Looking radiant in pale colours, she showed brilliant sang-froid when faced with unpredictable patients. There also is talk that she may foster a help program for otherwise helpless cases. It seems that this young lady might be what Hyrule needed, in spite of previous reservations. We'll have to see what the future holds for us.' "

Tetra drones all this, throwing the newspaper onto the pile of other clippings. Not one of them brought me down. On the contrary, it's like my first public outing was a total success. They all even took to calling me 'Princess' Zelda, even though I'm not a princess!

Tetra looks tired. She's been working late again. I know that she's working for Rauru, her grandfather, on top of helping me out. But when she smiles at me, she looks satisfied. "You did a good job, for a person who wasn't supposed to know anything about public speeches."

I grin back.

Aryll comes into my room, with her usual elfish smile. To both of us, she says, "Phone's been ringing off the hook. Every journalist in the world wants to have an exclusive interview with 'Princess Zelda'. They're ready to pay you big blinks for it."

I smile at her and stretch out on my couch, wearing my old overalls. "Tell them to take a rain check. It's my day off." It isn't, really, but since Link is downtown, I've got free time.

Aryll smirks. "Will do."

Tetra sits up suddenly. "No, you will not tell them to take a rain check. You will not tell them anything at all. Where's Link? Oh, fine, I'll handle this."

Tetra leaves. I feel kind of bad that she has to work her butt off when I'm lolling around doing nothing. Then again, I did work hard and suffer a lot of stress… Okay, yeah. I'm so lazy.

Aryll plops down in my armchair and props her feet on my coffee table. Looking at all the newspapers spread out on the surface, she says, "So. I heard you got some loon off my brother?"

I observe Aryll critically. I haven't forgotten that the only reason my impression on the press was so good is because she had the presence of mind to prepare a speech for me. If it hadn't been for her, I'd be judged like the dumbest person in Hyrule, and not like a competent 'princess'. I don't understand how she knows how to write such inspirational speeches. To be frank, I'm still a bit in shock.

"I did," I confirm. "But more importantly, I have to say thank you."

Aryll doesn't need to be reminded. She smiles, shrugs a bit, and says, "Don't worry about it. Foresight is a family thing. We just know what to expect." Lightly, she asks, "You're not mad that Link let you down, I hope?"

Her question surprises me a bit. I hadn't seen it that way at all in the first place. "No. It's not his fault, after all."

"I know, but politicians have been known to blame him for stuff like that before."

I frown and say, a bit sheepishly, "I'll admit I don't know much about your brother, Aryll."

She laughs and explains, "With Link, what you see is what you get."

Wow. That would make Link quite the catch.

We fall silent. Technically, I should be working on what they taught me in the past week. Link is busy at his office, filling in reports and finishing other projects. Impa Shades still hasn't shown up. I was told she hardly ever has any free time. I kind of imagine her as another Tetra. All I can hope is that she's not as mean as they say she is.

I suddenly frown. "Hey, where's Rauru?"

Aryll looks up from a newspaper article and says, "He's in the Hall of Ministers. It's downstairs, in the east wing. They're having a big meeting or something."

"And I'm not invited?" I'm a bit upset.

Aryll laughs. "Don't be mad. It's just that you're not legally in position yet. Ganondorf Dragmire is presiding for now."

I sit up. "Ganondorf Dragmire is in this palace? As we speak?"

All I get as an answer is a brief nod. "Yeah."

Maybe it's wrong of me, but I get this feeling like I have to see this Ganondorf guy in action. I have to know if what they say ―about him not being a good man― is really true. Because he's the one who can cause me trouble. Because if he's better than me, bye-bye queenie.

"Don't mind me, Aryll. I'm going for a walk."

She smiles. "Don't get lost, now."

I know what she means. I always get lost in this huge palace. I haven't had much time since I came to explore it properly. Well, now's my chance. I don't have anything scheduled for today, and there's practically no one to bother me.

That's how I end up inside Gold Ballroom two hours later.

Needless to say I didn't find the ministers' hall. Maybe I didn't try hard enough.

There's just something about massive, empty rooms that compels me. It's like they're immense, echoing temples, where a visitor is also an intruder.

The Gold Ballroom is a hall of majestic proportions. It's like the inside of a large, gold cathedral. In alcoves, there are different paintings of the world creation, with interpretations of the Golden Goddesses, and at the very end of the generally rectangular room, there's a large square patch of floor that's one step higher than the rest, above which is a massive painting of the Holy Triforce. All the walls are leafed with gold, yellow and white. The floor is a mosaic of rare yellow marble and white marble, representing a phoenix and Triforce, surrounded with various other symbols of mythology.

Behind the platform with the Triforce painting, there are high, thin, floor-to-ceiling windows, with thick curtains to block out the bright sunlight. So, rather than have the room be bathed in white and gold light, it's plunged into a semi-darkness that preserves the quality of every painting there. I don't mind the shadows. They make the room seem more austere and hidden, like a secret.

So, I consider, this is where my coronation ball might happen. Just thinking about it makes me feel nauseous. As Link said, it'd be grandiose. But I'm afraid to mess up before that.

That's the thing. I've come to realise I actually want to be queen. I want to prove that I can do this. I have no other prospect that's quite as wonderful as this half-fairy tale I'm living.

Since, of course, if this were a complete fairytale, an evil enemy would curse me and I'd have to be saved by a knight in shining armour.

So cliché, I think to myself with a small smile.

I step forward, and each one of my steps on the marble floor makes an echo that reverberates all around me. I love this silence. It's such a nice change from the hectic atmosphere of my previous week. It's like my whole world is cut off, and I'm in a sanctuary where time has stopped.

I walk to the platform, and look around. Really, this room is beautiful. Tetra didn't lie when she told me so on the first day.

I'd have stayed here all day.

The massive doors from where I entered creak. I turn, a bit startled, and I see him.

Ganondorf Dragmire. Don't ask me how I know. It's a feeling.

He's a broad-shouldered, towering giant, with dark olive skin, a strong nose, and bright red hair. His hands are immense, the kind you'd imagine chopping down trees rather than shuffling papers. He looks like a warrior, even with his black business suit.

Somehow, the sight of him sends a terrified tremor through me.

So, this is the man I voted for? He certainly has the presence of a powerful leader. I can't believe that a man so powerful didn't become a dictator and take over the position of king long ago. Though…

Link did tell me Ganondorf had that thought that he deserved to be Hyrule's ruler…

That means he probably doesn't want me in the picture.

If he feels any animosity towards me, Ganondorf Dragmire doesn't say anything. I'm sure he saw me. There's no way he didn't. I'm in plain sight.

In the still air of this mausoleum, he steps forward, coming my way. I can't withstand the solitary sound of his shoes echoing, so I fill it up by saying, "You're Ganondorf Dragmire, I suppose?"

He looks up, straight at me, and there's a flash of gold, like he pierced me with a thousand shards of metal. He smirks. His teeth are pearly white. I wouldn't expect anything less from a politician.

"_Princess_ Zelda," he says, insisting on the title the journalists and press correspondents have dubbed me with since my debut, "how wonderful to finally meet you."

I smile thinly. "I've heard of you." I don't answer with my first instinct, which had been to say that I'm not as enthusiastic as he suggested he was.

Ganondorf doesn't slow his calm advance towards me. He's looking around at the shadowed room. "I assume you must have. I was on the front page of every newspaper before you came along."

He's being factual. I can't answer him. Still, I hear his biting tone.

Finally, he stops in front of me. He's really tall. Nearly a head taller than Link. I try to look as confident as what he merely exudes. His voice is deep, rumbling like thunder. I've never met a man that felt so threatening before.

He gives me a once-over, not disguising his contempt. "I can see the publicity firm has put in a lot of work for you to become nearly as appreciated as me."

I don't say anything, but my dislike for him is growing steadily.

"They say you were a waitress," Ganondorf says, sort of conversationally. "Do enlighten me. Is this true?"

I'm trying to keep myself from flaring into visible anger. "My father abandoned my mother when she was pregnant with me. I've had no other choice."

Ganondorf seems to find this amusing. "And they take you out of the dust to put you on the shelf because Nohansen was your father." With mild interest, he comments, "The old man deserved to die, don't you think? He'd done his time."

I don't know if he expected me to agree with him. Frankly, I would have if we had been two weeks earlier. But we were not. Ganondorf Dragmire was insulting my father, the one who ensured I actually had a second chance at life ―and what a life! The very type of life my mother always wished I could have.

"Nohansen was a good man," I say to him, not hiding the acidity I feel. "Just because your political ideal doesn't agree with his―"

"My political ideals are what allowed you to be where you are, girl!" Ganondorf suddenly snaps, and the harshness in his voice makes me step backward. He comes to stand in front of me, and says, in a threatening voice, "If it weren't for me, you'd still be dirt! The idea of a return to monarchy would never have occurred to this rotten country without my word!"

Which, if you think about it, isn't exactly what you want to hear from the steward of your nation.

I'm also shocked at how short his fuse is. They should have a neon sign saying 'Handle With Care' above his head. Or, even 'Don't Handle At All'.

"I am the one who put you here," he says, low. "And I'm telling you right now that if you get in my way, I won't be playing fair."

Okay. Obvious threat. The bloody son of... He clearly sees that I lose my smile for good. The animosity between us is now obvious.

I say, with asperity, "Do you ever?"

I think maybe Ganondorf might have tried to hurt me at that moment, but he never got to even lay a finger on me, because a voice suddenly interrupts us.

"Zelda Harkinian," the voice calls, and both Ganondorf and I turn to look at the doors.

On the threshold, I see a tall, silver-haired, athletic-looking woman. Her shoulders are square, her eyes are sharp, and if she's going to keep Ganondorf from strangling me, I intend to revere her for the rest of my life.

Ganondorf Dragmire snorts a bit. "Impa Shades. What ill wind brings you here?"

Impa doesn't answer him. She's walking towards us with a clip pace.

"Zelda," she says again, as she reaches my side, "I'm here to review next week's schedule with you. Link Forester said you were aware of this."

I have no clue what she's talking about, but I'm not about to argue. I smile at her as graciously as possible, and say, "Of course."

Ganondorf sounds scornful when both Impa and I walk away. I hear him say, "We'll see if you have what it takes to handle power, wisecrack."

I feel an urge to turn around and tell him off, but Impa places a hand on my shoulder and keeps me firmly facing the door. I don't even have to meet her face to know what that means.

The moment we step out of the ballroom, inside which Ganondorf is still lurking, Impa Shades, as severe looking as I expected her to be, says, "I thought you knew it's best not to be left alone with Ganondorf Dragmire, Zelda."

I'm still reeling from the shock of how openly Dragmire showed his hatred for me. I say, "Can we have him removed now that he's threatened me like that?"

"There would be no evidence of your accusations. Besides, you don't have that power yet."

I gape at her. "What? But I didn't hallucinate that! And… And you were there, besides!"

Impa Shades doesn't even look affected by my near hysteria. She's as stone-faced as before. I wonder if she ever smiled in her life. She says, "It doesn't work that way. Let it be a lesson for you: Ganondorf Dragmire is not a friend. He is an acquaintance on whom you may not rely as well as a rival. I would think Forester would have warned you about this, at least, but I see no one ever bothers with competence anymore."

"Hey," I exclaim, hoping I don't sound too eager to defend my godly publicist. "Link did warn me about him!"

Impa and I are walking down the peach hallway, like I did with Link on the day of my arrival. But it's not nearly as convivial as it was then. Impa looks at me out of the corner of her eye and comments flatly, "Then it is you who has a problem if you didn't listen to him."

What? Hey!

"I was there first." I say, a bit petulantly, I'll admit. "Ganondorf ambushed me!"

Impa considers me for a moment, and finally concludes, "In that case, I'll have to teach you common sense before I teach you about the history of your country."

"Common sense?" I cry out. "You say I need common sense? What about that crazy screwball in there?" I'm making a wide, vague motion with my arm at the direction where we came from. "He would have killed me!"

Impa scoffs. "So it would have served you right for antagonizing him."

I swear my jaw dropped. The unfairness of it all just hit me. It's like being accused and giving all the evidence that you're innocent then being told that it's insufficient.

I don't like this Impa person. Sure, she helped me out with Dragmire, but I don't think shooting down the future queen of Hyrule is the best way to be in her future favours.

"Well," I mumble between my teeth, after a long moment of angry silence, "it's nice to meet you too. I'm Zelda Harkinian." I outstretch my hand.

Impa looks at it, as though I just offered her to lick my shoe, but then takes it firmly, and says, curtly, "Impa Shades. Your history teacher."

"I thought you were going to teach me common sense." I say, and I think her eyes flicker with the barest tinge of amusement. "Though I think martial arts may be a better option." I look at her athletic build. "Are you a black belt in something?"

"Yes," Impa says, back to being curt, and when I show my interest, she says, "In knowing how to avoid battles."

With that, she abandons me in front of my room doorway, and goes back down the hallway.

Wow. _Now_ she's a bitch.

Aryll looks up when I re-enter my bedroom. She hasn't really moved since I last saw her. I don't know why she loves hanging out in my room so much. Maybe it's just cooler. She's reading a short story in the _Hyrule Times_, and until I show up, it seems she was doing just fine.

When she sees my face, though, her tiny smile dies and is replaced with a frown. "Wow. Did a fire keese get you or something?"

"I wish," I mumble. "Instead, I met Impa Shades."

Aryll cringes. "Oh. I should have warned you. She was supposed to come in and check up on you today."

"And check up she did," I grouse. "I also met Ganondorf Dragmire."

"Double 'oh'."

I let myself collapse on my couch and say, "This sucks."

"Did he do anything?"

Finally hopeful that I'll find a sympathetic soul in this massive palace, I say, with indignation, "He ambushed me in the Gold Ballroom and said that he wouldn't let me become queen. He totally insulted me and then, when I gave him a minuscule piece of my mind, he almost jumped me. I'm sure he'd have tried to kill me."

"But Impa interrupted that or you wouldn't be alive," Aryll says, looking more serious than I ever saw her.

My arms, which had been motioning widely, fall at my sides, and I say, morosely, "Well, yeah."

Losing her grave expression, Aryll says, with the proper amount of sympathy, "That must have sucked."

"It totally did," I mumble, looking off into the distance. "She said it was my fault that Ganondorf tried to kill me. I mean, what's up with that?"

Aryll gives a little helpless shrug. "Impa's unreadable sometimes."

I look at Aryll. "Is there some info about Impa that I should know to keep her from eating my brains live out of my skull?"

Link's sister laughs. "Not really. She's not that bad once you get to know her, I'm told." I snort, because that's something I can't imagine to be true. Her eyes wander to my unused laptop. It's usually on, because I only take it to read memos that Link and Tetra send me. "By the way, your computer beeped while you were away. I think you have mail."

"Mail?" I sit up and flip the screen to its upright position. "That's odd. I thought Link would be too busy to send me― Hey, who the heck is 'stallion lover twenty-four-seven'?"

"I don't know," Aryll answers me, giggling a bit at the name. "Probably a girl. I can't imagine a man saying he likes stallions."

I make a face at the teen. "Get your mind out of the gutter, girl. What would your brother say if he heard you suggest stuff like that?"

"That he doesn't like stallions, thank you very much."

"Well," I say, rolling my eyes, and opening the mail, "that's a relief."

We both fall into silence as I begin reading the electronic mail. Aryll picks up a gossip magazine, titled ironically enough 'Mask of Truth' and begins perusing its hefty set of rumours.

'To: Hyrule Government ― zelda.harkinian

'From: NetBind ― stallion.lover.24.7

'Subject: OH MY DIN, GIRL!

'HEY, ZELLIE! It's Malon! You remember, don't you? That wickedly cool friend of yours down south? I hope it hasn't been so long that you don't remember me! Or Ruto. I'm typing from her computer, since, unless you forgot how dirt poor we all were, I'm too broke to buy my own. Do you think with your queenly salary, you could buy me a computer?

'I'm just kidding, sweetie! In case you were wondering, I asked Tetra Piraetes (that woman is so cool!) for your private email when she called me in the beginning of the week. She said she'd give it to me in exchange for your size of clothing. Is she buying you stuff? I can't believe you're shopping in Marcastle without Ruto and me. That is so unfair.

'Over here, everything's just fine, except that I woke up this morning, and WHOSE FACE DID I SEE ON THE FRONT PAGE OF THE NEWSPAPER ON MY DOORSTEP THIS MORNING? That's right. YOURS. And I just want to say, that picture of you talking to that nutty middle-aged fairy man totally doesn't do you justice. You're not THAT pale in real life.

'Kudos on the cream suit, though. Way sexy.

'Anyway, I asked Anju (your housemate, remember?) if she knew who that hot blond guy was that the fairy dude was holding onto (not that I blame him, if you get my drift. That blonde man is sex rolled into the body for sin). And she said he's Link Forester! The guy who fetched you at your place!

'Why was I left out of the hysteria, is what I want to know.

'So. Have you moved in on him yet? I don't suppose so. You're too shy. But I tell you, in that picture, he's looking at you with adoration. And no, I'm not having "another one of those moments" so don't start. I can totally see it in the picture: he's WAY glad that you're helping him to pry Nutty Mc Nut off of his shirt. Even Ruto agrees with me. And if Ruto says something… Well, you know how it goes.

'Oh my Din, I miss you, Zellie! It's no fun dissing truckers at the café without you. I can't even shop for underwear anymore, because I need your help to pick out the colours! I tell you, life in Lakeside sucked before you left, but now it sucks really badly. The Laundromat still hasn't been fixed either.

'Anyway. Ruto and I are rooting for you. I tell you, people here in Lakeside totally adore you. They're selling mugs with your face on it everywhere. MUGS, ZELLIE! YOUR FACE IS ON A MUG! I bought one, and it's on my shelf, beside Mr. Hoppers, the Plush Bunny of Doom. Sometimes I look at that mug and pretend that you're telling me I'm stupid. It makes me feel better to say shut up to your face rather than to an empty space.

'I really hope you're holding out over there in Marcastle. I hope you're having a great time living it up with all the handsome princes charming of the world. Be sure to save one for me, though. :)

'I love ya, girlfriend,

'Malon (and Ruto) XOXOX'

I read that message over and over again. I feel really sad now, but I can't help smiling at Malon's antics. I have the greatest best friends in the world.

"What're you smiling at?" Aryll asks, looking up from an article entitled 'How to make your nails stand out'.

I force my smile to hide a bit of the hollow feeling that makes me want to cry. "A message from my best friend, Malon Ranch, in Lakeside."

Aryll looks understanding. "Oh, true. She's at the other end of the country. That's a real bummer."

"It is," I say, re-reading the paragraph about mugs. "At least I know she hasn't forgotten me. She seems to think I forgot her, though."

"Mail back."

I smile thinly. "Yeah, I will for sure. But…"

Aryll's blonde eyebrow hitches high on her forehead. "But?"

"I just wish I could do more than just write. My friends are still living in the misery I abandoned. They're such great people. All of them. It sucks being told you're possibly the future queen and having no power to change things like that."

Aryll looks at me in sympathy. "You just have to be patient. Once you're queen for good, you'll do as you want."

I laugh a bit at that, and when she seems surprised, I say, "Sure. Only if Ganondorf Dragmire doesn't get me KO, I will."

"If you ask me," Aryll says, in a bout of wisdom that impresses me, "he wouldn't be worried if he didn't feel that you actually do have the potential to be a good queen."

"Do I, now?" I'm listening to her and typing back to Malon at the same time.

"You do." Then, she holds up a newspaper clipping and says, "Because if you didn't, they wouldn't all be calling you 'Princess Zelda'. They'd just call you Harkinian like they call him Dragmire." She smirks. "The people are loving you. My brother knows his thing. You ought to listen to him: he'll help you win against Ganon Dreadfire."

"Dragmire."

"It doesn't matter what his name is, since you're going to eclipse him. In a year, nobody will remember him anyway. They'll just know you."

Aryll smiles confidently. I can't help but hope that's she's right.

* * *

**OMG, THE SEPERATORS WORK! (That silly line just above.) They were out of commission for like, two months!**

**I tell you, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.**

**About Mr. Hoppers (Malon's Plush Bunny of Doom!), he's just a quick reference to the Bunny Hood from OoT and MM. Hee.**

**Some references like that will probably happen a couple more times... Okay, no. They'll happen for sure, they're just too fun.**

**Anyway. Leave a review, okay?**

**Love,  
CM**

**P.S. _I was born too late, to a world that doesn't care, oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair._ (That song is too addictive, dammit. I'll lay off it now.)**


	7. Pupil

**Fun with lessons today. It's more of a build-up for the next chapter, I think, but it also establishes a slight foundation for Zelda's upcoming trials, which I will define in chapter 8.**

**Nothing major to say this time around. My social life (and tribulations) is too convoluted for me to post here anymore. Heh. You'll have to check out my blog to read more on the subject of Project Boy and Admin Guy. Otherwise, I'll be sparing those who just don't care. **

**No warnings for now. A very minor language warning might be issued for chapter 8, but this one is harmless. For now, the only thing dangerous is Zelda's mind. Heehee.**

**Please have fun reading. :)**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Pupil"**

"You have to understand," Rauru is explaining to me with infinite kindness and patience as I sit in his office, taking notes, "that a motion is a suggestion to create or change a law. For it to pass to application, it has to be seconded by at least one minister of your cabinet then approved by a majority of ministers."

All this sounds really serious and straightforward, but it's somehow fascinating. I've been in this office for two whole hours and I have yet to find the subject boring. Maybe I should study law?

"Once it has been approved by a majority, it has to be written up and then approved again."

I note this down carefully in my Fairy notebook TM. Link bought it for me yesterday on his way back to the palace after my encounter with Ganondorf ―so sweet of him, really― along with the appropriate Fairy pen and Fairy eraser. He says there's a Fairy Shop downtown. It's one of those well-known theme shops with stuff that everyone wants for no logical reason. I've heard of it, but I've never been there. I really want to see it. He said we might go, if I really want to, during one of my Basics courses, which I still haven't had.

"If the motion isn't seconded, it won't be considered for at least another three months. If upon being re-presented it is vetoed, you can either abandon the project or reformulate it. Of course, all laws should be written for the good future of Hyrule," Rauru specifies. "As Impa Shades will most likely explain to you in more detail, many rulers during the middle ages have disregarded Hyrule's welfare for their own profit."

I nod, and examine my outline, with arrows, annotations and legal terms linking to each other. Rauru comes around his desk to look at it from over my shoulder. I hear him chuckle to himself.

"You have a very organized mind, young lady."

"I like to think so," I smile absently.

"So, not too confused?"

I shake my head. "I don't think so. I've taken everything down, and it seems to make sense. If anything, I'm afraid that you've been going easy on me."

Rauru laughs outright at that. It's an old man's bark of amusement. "Farore forbid, child. There would be no point to abbreviate the courses for the one person in the country who needs to understand the law better than anyone else."

"I'm glad to hear that," I say, grinning up at him. "That means I might actually be good at something."

Rauru's eyebrows hitch up in surprise. He goes back to his seat in front of me. "Have you had doubts about your competence?"

"I was a waitress, and I'm surrounded by people who are ten times more qualified for this role than me, so excuse the vocabulary, but 'Duh'."

I smile at him to ensure him of my minor sarcasm. He smiles at me, a bit exasperated.

"Well, I'm told that you have done impressive progress. Link says you're learning faster than he'd expected."

I refrain from sitting up excitedly. "Really?"

Rauru smiles secretively. "That young man knows what he's talking about. I should suppose he doesn't lie."

I grin. Link thinks I'm good! It would be nice if he told me so directly, though. It's not like I'm going to get an inflated ego with a compliment here and there or anything.

"And that's it for today, young lady. Or should I call you 'Princess'?" Rauru's eyes are teasing.

"No need," I say. "I might get a split personality disorder, and they'll have to send me back to Jabun Jabu."

"How dramatic," Rauru says, gently, and I can't help but giggle. I really like Rauru. He's always so ready to crack a joke. I swear: if I had known my grandpa, I'd have wished him to be exactly like Rauru.

I close my notebook and try to remember where I was supposed to go next. I know Tetra and Link have to finish telling me about my press conference tomorrow.

I actually have my weekly schedule in my notebook. Tomorrow, on day ten, I have a press conference, my second press event. The day after that, I have a symbolic meeting about the protection of the environment with a youth group. On the thirteenth day, I'm supposed to be in Minish for a visit to the ambassador of Hyrule there. And all that is just this week's schedule!

"Nine days in Marcastle, and already a press conference, I hear," Rauru says, interrupting my thoughts.

I smile, but I'm a bit creeped out. It's like the men in this palace know exactly what all my thoughts are. Link's ability to detect my thought patterns is the most terrifying. "Well, it's true that it's been less than ten days since I came, but I think it can't be that bad."

I'm not this confident, actually, but I figure Rauru has enough to worry about without my own anxiety.

"What has Ganondorf been up to lately?" I ask, as casually as possible, even as Rauru stands to escort me out of his office.

Rauru looks carefully blank. "He's working at his popularity, so he's not being too difficult for us ministers. He doesn't want to be disliked."

I walk out into the hallway and turn back to look at him with honest concern. "If the ministers choose Ganondorf in the end, what will happen to me?"

Rauru stares at me, then a fatherly expression overcomes him and he brings his arm up and around my shoulders, squeezing a bit. "My dear, I promise that I will do everything in my power to keep him from taking your rightful place."

I'm touched, because frankly the throne isn't exactly my 'rightful place', but it doesn't answer my question. I figure he doesn't know anymore than I do on my future, so I simply smile and disengage myself from him. "Thank you, Rauru."

My prime minister observes me with sincere affection, and says, "You should trust yourself more, Zelda." He looks straight into my eyes and says, with gentle honesty, "I look at you and I don't see a waitress or Nohansen's daughter. I see a caring young woman who can readily lead Hyrule into an era of prosperity and seek its profit before her own." He smiles and the corner of his eyes crinkle. "I can only hope that one day your mirror will reflect that image back to you so that you can see I'm saying the truth."

I'm really touched now, and, as though he were my real grandfather, I lean forward and kiss Rauru's cheek. Suddenly, I'm hit with a thought: what the heck am I doing?

This is my prime minister, not my grandpa!

As a result, I recoil suddenly, and look horrified. And I break into an embarrassing stammer of apologies. "Oh my Din, I'm so sorry! I don't know why I did that. I swear I―"

But I break off because I see that Rauru is laughing in kindred amusement. Then, I see his eyes stray off beyond my shoulder and he says, "I don't know how you've managed to make her so endearing, but she'll most certainly win over all the geezers in the cabinet at this rate!"

I turn to look at whomever he's speaking to behind me. To my complete and utter embarrassment, I see that Link and Tetra, their hands full of paperwork, are both smiling in genuine entertainment. They clearly were walking our way when I pecked Rauru's cheek, and had most likely overheard everything else.

Link shrugs a bit and looks at me with his bright blue eyes, saying, "I think it's my natural charisma that transferred to her."

"What?" Tetra exclaims, though she throws a wink my way, "You kissed my grandfather too?"

If floors really can open up and eat people, now would be a great time for it to happen.

"Enough, children," Rauru says. He clearly saw my embarrassment, and is trying to appease it. To me, he says, "I'm not upset, child. You're the first politician I ever met who seemed to care so very much for others. I sincerely appreciate that in a person. You'll see that your kindness will become a valuable asset."

I try to keep my voice level, and mumble, "Thank you."

Tetra bursts into the conversation, then, and says, "Well, grandpa, we have preparations to make for tomorrow's conference."

Rauru nods. He waves us off, smiling. "Be gone, then. You're all so impatient."

"We are," Tetra agrees solemnly, indicating for me to follow her. I do, and Link walks on my other side. He looks edible today too, in a black, striped, casual work shirt with black slacks. Tetra is walking at a quick and steady pace. She says, "So, Zelda. Your press conference is tomorrow, and we've still got to tell you about the general procedure."

I glance at Link, and he grins at me.

Why? Why must he be a business relation? He causes me no end of anguish.

"Where are we walking to?" I ask Tetra, who is still walking amazingly fast, for a woman with a heavy pile of paper in her arms.

"Link's room. We're dropping off all the coordinates of the various guests invited at your upcoming public events with him so that he can review them."

I look back at Link in shock. "You're doing all this yourself?"

Link laughs. "Well, not exactly. But it's my role. I'm the know-it-all, remember?"

I push from my mind the fact that his laugh is unfairly sexy. I follow them in silence. We walk for five minutes at an amazing speed, because of Tetra, and finally reach the door next to my own.

I've never been in Link's room, and somehow this occasion makes me feel inexplicably warm. He unlocks the door, and pushes the panel. It doesn't creak either.

And, predictably, nothing exciting happens. I mean by this that he doesn't suddenly slam the door in Tetra's face, then drop his pile of paper in a chaotic mess, then grab me and pull me into his strong arms to press a kiss full of pent-up desire to my lips.

Oh, Nayru. Quit thinking, Zelda. You're not helping your sanity, here.

Well, you know. A girl can still hope.

His room is clearly a guest room, with the same commodities as mine but with perhaps a bit less lustre. There's a big desk against the wall, ―with a laptop like mine, ― on which he and Tetra place the heavy piles of paper. Instead of a purple theme, Link got green.

"Hey, Link," a quiet, hoarse voice says.

I jump nearly a mile high and turn around. In the doorway is a small guy of whom I can't determine the age, since most of his face is hidden beneath large spectacles. He doesn't look nearly as twitchy as Niko, though, so I assume that he's not the kind to run around like mad.

Tetra turns too, and smiles. "Ah. Mako. There you are."

To the little guy, Link says, "Here's the whole list. I've got a couple of things to take care of at the moment, but can you still begin the job? I'll be back in an hour or so. Alright?"

Mako nods quietly, hobbling over to Link's desk and grabbing a part of the paperwork. He begins studying it. Apparently satisfied, Link and Tetra motion for me to leave Link's room and enter my own with them.

"Um… That was…?" I ask.

"Mako Bright," Tetra supplies as Link enters my room and takes out his palm pilot ―old habits, they say. "He's the book keeper mostly. One of my assistants."

I nod slowly, but then Link turns and says, "Back to the press conference, shall we?"

Tetra nods. To me, she says, "It's scheduled for five in the afternoon, tomorrow, in front of the palace. There will be a short discourse, then journalists will be allowed to ask you questions."

I can see that this part of the conference worries them greatly. I perfectly understand why: an awkward answer can destroy all their efforts until now. I really don't want to fail them.

The problem is, I won't know what the questions will be, and so I can't prepare my answers. And so I can't guarantee that my answers won't be awkward, because, as I've already mentioned, I'm not a public speaker. I don't do oral presentations. I research facts. Talking was Malon and Ruto's domain.

"Let's rehearse," Link says. "If I ask you, 'What are your thoughts about the recent fiscal laws established to protect Hyrule trade from foreign invaders?', what will you respond?"

I answer him automatically, because they've drilled this into my mind since before the mental hospital thing. "I strongly feel that protectionism is a good option to ensure that Hyrule's economy doesn't collapse onto itself. Technology has been evolving at breakneck speeds of late, and the only way to keep our market alive is to give it solid foundations. Many other countries are adopting protectionism as a sure way to grow. I will, however, discuss future trade agreements with other nations once we are all back to a relatively stable situation, to create an environment of free-trade in which countries of the Hylian Alliance can build off of each other."

I pause to take a breath then continue. "Hyrule and its neighbours have always gotten along as a somewhat unified economical entity, and I can only hope that this symbiosis will continue for a long time to come. Any other questions?" I add with a sweet smile at Link, who has nodded his approval.

" 'What are the measures that the Hyrulian government plans to take in order to protect endangered species living in the still wild areas of Hyrule?' " Tetra asks, forcing me to rack my memory for the proper answer. Finally, I remember what Link taught me.

"I'm glad that you've asked that question, as I have a public hearing tomorrow on the subject, to which you are all cordially invited." I shoot a pretty smile at both Link and Tetra. Link looks away to study my coffee table. Bastard. "For the moment, we are still debating what the best option for efficient protection of Hyrulian flora and fauna might be. Of course, new laws will be put into motion and human resources will most likely be hired to be on site for a physical census. Though we do not have a detailed action plan for this issue, rest assured that the environment is on our list of top priorities and we will let you know of any legal progress in this field."

Tetra is about to ask another question, but Link stops her. He comes my way, and Tetra rolls her eyes behind his back.

"What's wrong, Link?"

I furrow a brow at Link. I don't really know why he stopped the session. He stops in front of me, so close that I'm looking at his nose. I raise my eyes to meet his gaze.

He smells spicy and earthy. Hmm…

"What did I tell you about the pronunciation of your 'A's?" He asks me.

Tetra lets out a loud sigh. "I can see where this is going." I gaze at her imploringly, and she shrugs, slightly apologetic. "Sorry, gal, but I'm not staying around while he forces you into pronouncing syllables over and over again. I stayed last time and I was bored to tears, no offence."

I turn back to Link, who is gazing down at me with a resolute look. "Is there really no way to avoid this?" I ask.

I really dread his pronunciation courses. They're horrible, because I don't hear myself, and what seems appropriate to me isn't to him, and when I try to reproduce the sounds he suggests, I feel like cringing.

"No," Link says, even as Tetra hurries to eclipse herself. "There really isn't."

We're practically nose-to-nose. Does he realise this?

"I really hate you," I lament. "Why does it matter so much, what accent I have?"

Link glances back at the door that Tetra has closed behind herself on her way out. Then, he looks back at me and smirks. "Actually, it doesn't."

I blink at him. My eyes travel between his face and the shut door, and then I think of Kotake's insinuations, and then I feel my face heat up. Could it be…? Could it be that he pretended to start a pronunciation course just to drive Tetra away so that we could have some intimate quality time?

"Sit down," he commands, indicating my couch. I wonder why he insists on the couch if my bed is just there, a few steps away, but I obey him anyway. What sane girl wouldn't?

"Link," I begin, a bit nervously, "look, I really think that―"

"Take your shoes off."

Um, what? That's not what a normal man would ask a girl at his mercy to do. Whatever. I do as he says, since I'm curious and since I figure I can then ask him to remove his shirt next.

But Link doesn't seem intent of divesting us both. He just watched my shoes fly off of my feet. I'm wearing stretch jeans today. Link takes the edge of my right pant leg and is pulling it up to reveal my ankle. He's kneeling in front of me, and frankly, I've never seen a man this handsome from up-close before.

It's a real sensory overload, baby.

I don't know why he looks this intent, though. He's carefully examining my ankle, and his warm fingers are practically burning holes into my skin.

I kinda hope that he doesn't have a foot fetish.

And then, I remember about my tattoo.

"What is this?" Link asks, designating the stylized phoenix tattoo on my ankle.

I had it done three years ago, on a whim, while Malon and I were at a fair. I thought it'd be nice, and so I paid for it. It wasn't really expensive, since the tattoo itself isn't really that big. With the right shoes, no one would know that it's there. It only shows if I'm wearing sandals.

"It's a tattoo," I say to Link with sarcasm, because I'm disappointed that he wasn't looking for a romp, as I'd originally thought.

"I know that," Link answers back wryly. "I noticed it the first day during our posture class."

Oh. He means when he bent down to place my feet.

"What I want to know," Link continues, "is why exactly you have a tattoo."

"A thousand apologies, sir," I say, standing, now barefoot on my thick carpet. "I didn't know queens weren't allowed to have tattoos." I look down at him, a bit insulted. "Why do I have to remodel myself? Can't the people accept that I do what I want with my own body?"

Link sighs, leaning back and observing me from his seated position on my carpet. "I didn't say I disapproved of that tattoo. It might sell well. I was just asking why you had it. Was it a dare?"

I'm a bit miffed. "No. I wanted one."

Link nods. "And you thought the phoenix was a good idea?"

"Well," I ask, a bit unpleasantly, I'll admit, "Wasn't it?"

"I like it," Link says, simply.

That's when I realise that he's not trying to be reproachful. He was just trying to change my mind from tomorrow's stressful press conference. I feel a bit of self-loathing for my acerb tone. I also feel a pang of gratitude for Link.

When I manage to simmer down, I let myself fall back onto my couch, in front of him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Link says, examining my pale, bare feet absently. "You haven't had much time to relax and think about anything else aside from your many responsibilities. In time you'll get used to it, but for a newcomer, it can be extremely exhausting and nerve-wracking."

I say nothing. Of course, Link factually summed up the situation.

We stay in calm, contemplative silence for a long moment, until a loud knock interrupts our musings. I jump a bit, startled, and gaze at Link with panicky eyes.

Link, on the other hand, is perfectly calm. He stands and calls, "Come in."

I'm a bit surprised by how he seems so at ease in my bedroom, giving people the permission to come in and everything.

The door opens, and one of Tetra's assistants, Gonzo, a gentle-hearted giant with a simple mind but incredible strength, enters. He always looks a bit awkward with his large build, and is often unable to do things without first obtaining Tetra's permission first. In fact, he has a major crush on Tetra, and it's obvious.

But this time, he looks at Link and says, in his deep, a bit wondering voice, "Darunia Rocks, sir."

Link's face seems to light up. "Oh, good. Let him in!"

No sooner has he said this that a gigantic flurry of excitement has entered my room, pushing Gonzo aside a bit. Before I know it, Link has been engulfed in a bone-crushing bear hug, and is almost lifted from the ground.

I stare at the one introduced as Darunia Rocks, and blink a couple of times in uncertainty.

He looks like a thick-skinned, darkly tanned countryman, with messy, light brown hair and small, crinkled eyes. His build alone would make a wrestler shudder in fear. His arms are bulging with huge muscles, and he has a set of square shoulders that don't seem to fit through doorways.

But, more impressively, his huge, toothy smile distracts from all that obvious strength. His smile is that of a happy boy's, with a mix of childish glee and suppressed maturity: the smile of a man who has refused to grow up.

He's still choking Link in a big hug, his voice is cheerful and deep in greeting, "How have you been, bro?'

Link, on the verge of dying of asphyxiation, smiles back as cheerfully as possible. I'm sure that his ribs are bruised.

Finally, Darunia Rocks drops Link, and Link lets out a loud 'Oof!'

"I came as soon as I heard you needed my services, kid," Darunia is saying proudly, and shockingly loud, too. "Never let it be said Darunia Rocks doesn't know how to help out a friend in need."

Link, having caught his breath, says, "I'm glad to see you're still as cheerful as ever."

"Am I ever!" Darunia exclaims, pumping one his arms. I feel myself shrink back at the sheer size of that bicep.

Link turns to look at me as he struggles to stand. Darunia seems to notice me too, for the first time. People always notice others before me. With wide eyes, he strikes a mighty slap against Link's shoulder, which causes Link to buckle and stumble, and loudly exclaims, "Well, I'll be, Forester, you finally chose to get hitched! Nice choice! My congratulations!"

"What?" Link asks incredulously from his sprawled position on the floor. "I'm not getting hitched. Darunia, that's Zelda Harkinian. You know. The future queen of Hyrule."

Darunia seems to lose a part of his laughing smile at this. Now, he looks stunned. "Zelda Harkinian? The one they call 'princess'?"

I nod, meekly, because I don't really want to suffer Darunia's enthusiasm.

Darunia's weakened smile comes back with a vengeance though. "So she's my new charge, I guess?"

Um. Charge? I glance at Link curiously. He smiles. To Darunia, he says, "Yeah. You got that right." To me, he explains, "Darunia Rocks is a professional bodyguard."

Wow, I think. He's… Hey, I get my own bodyguard! The concept is way cool.

"That's… That's great," I say, and I stand to shake Darunia's immense hand. "It's great to meet you, I mean. I never had a bodyguard before." I know I'm gushing, but I can't help it. "So, do you actually kick people's butts?"

Link clears his throat. I grimace at him then look back at Darunia's amused face. He's making sure that he isn't squashing my hand, treating it like a precious crystal. I'm touched.

"I mean, of course," I say, for Link's benefit more than for Darunia's, "Do you indeed bring your foot to people's posteriors?"

Darunia barks in laughter, and Link rolls his eyes as he picks himself up and dusts his slacks off.

"Very spirited," he says in obvious sarcasm.

"I thought so too," I smile back as smartly.

Darunia lets go of my hand carefully, and says, "I only injure those who try to hurt my charges. And I think I might've taken a liking to you, kid," he says, looking at me with his laughing, crinkled eyes. "You've got more depth than the other jobs I've had."

"But why do I need a bodyguard?" I ask Link with a frown. "It's not like they're going to harm me. I'm on the palace grounds, and the Royal Guard protects it. Isn't that right?"

"Yes," Link says slowly, as though he's calculating his answer. "But we're concerned about outside the palace grounds… and inside the palace walls."

"Inside the palace walls?"

Link shrugs. "Well," he says, a bit too lightly for it to be sincere, "you never know."

"I see," I say, with a bit of a glare, which he averts his gaze from.

I don't really know why they're so secretive, all of a sudden, but whatever. I'm not going to let that obscure my day. I have to prepare myself for a press conference, and I've had long enough of a break.

Oh, Farore. A press conference. I am so dead.

* * *

**So, that's it for chapter 7. I figured I was lagging a bit in releases, so there.**

**I really should get back to chapter 19. I'm so slow nowadays. Ugh.**

**By the by, the Fairy items that Link bought for Zelda are a reference to OoT's constant use of the "article of time" and the "fairy something". Fairy Bow, Fairy Ocarina, Fairy Slingshot... So, assuming this Hyrule is the future of that Hyrule, why not also have the Fairy Notebook and the Fairy Pen and the Fairy Eraser? As well as a whole brand of Fairy TM articles? They'd be like the Hello Kitty of Hyrule or something.**

**I thought it'd be cute.**

**Love,  
CM**


	8. Conferee

**Yay, fun with pivotal moments in the story!**

**Some might notice the start of this chapter includes a simplified summary of the story so far. It's just to clear it up, in case. I try to keep the storyline as easy to comprehend as possible. It's a test to see how accessible my writing can be. It's not like I think it's incomprehensible, or anything, but if everyone can agree that I make myself clear, then it's all good.**

**I also noticed that _Only in Hyrule_ has become, by far, the most popular story I ever wrote. I'm glad, because I put so much time and effort into writing each detail and including winks for every chapter. I also tried very hard to keep a sense of unity for the overall story, something that I felt was lacking in my other fics.**

**So, thank you to everyone for helping me out and encouraging me. :)**

**Please enjoy.**

**Warning: Some extremely mild language.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Conferee"**

There are only two ways to be woken up by someone: in a good way, or in a bad way. There are no other possibilities. Also, the way you're woken up determines how the rest of your day is likely to go.

Obviously, ideally we'd all wake up in the good way, for evident reasons.

It's day ten of my stay in Marcastle. Today, I'm supposed to do a press conference to explain to the world that I'm the best choice as a future ruler of the country. If I do well during this thing, I'll win a couple of points in the public opinion.

The basic idea is to succeed and catch up to Ganondorf Dragmire, my only other rival, and the politician who got elected for suggesting a return to monarchy, obviously thinking that this plan would make _him_ the supreme king. That plan was foiled when my dead father ―the previous president of Hyrule― suggested in his testament that I, his unknowing daughter, be considered instead for the position. He'd predicted Ganondorf Dragmire's greed and wished to stop it at any cost.

That, in combination with the coaxing of a very determined ―and drop-dead handsome― publicist from Marcastle, is why I'm currently in a popularity contest against Ganondorf, and far behind in the rankings because I popped out of nowhere.

My only hope lies in fair timing, public appearances, and my relationship to Daphne Nohansen. In fact, if it hadn't been for that, I'd have long been shot out.

As I said, there are only two ways to be woken up.

On the crucial day of my conference, I was woken up the bad way.

At first glance, it may seem like a blessing. Link is nudging me awake gently, whispering about how I have to take an early breakfast and about how I have some physical training to do today before my five o'clock conference.

Women everywhere would kill to be woken up by Super Stud Link Forester. But not me.

Because now that I'm awake, I remember about my duties, and I remember about Ganondorf, and, obviously, this makes me hyperventilate. Also, I'm wondering what the heck Link is doing in my room.

I don't handle stress very well, you see.

In my half-awake panic, my elbow flies out and smacks Link solidly, sending him sprawling backward with an 'oof!' that makes me snap into complete consciousness.

A low groan of discomfort comes from my floor.

Bugger, I think. I just elbow-punched my publicist.

I sit up, eyes wide, and stare at Link as he lies on my bedside carpet, and trip over my apologies. My voice is extremely high-pitched. Not sexy and hoarse as it would have been any other day.

"Oh Farore, I am _so_ sorry," I exclaim. "I didn't mean to―"

Link holds up a hand, using his other hand to massage his chin, which I have apparently elbowed painfully. He looks stunned and hardly enthusiastic. I don't blame him: Prince Charming didn't exactly get sucker-punched when he tried to wake Sleeping Beauty, after all. I can sort of see how he's bummed out.

"As I was saying," he eventually says as he stands and dusts himself off, "you have some physical training with Sheik before your conference."

"Link," I say, crawling on my bed, trying to look as apologetic as I feel, "I am so sorry. I swear I didn't mean to do that."

Link, who had done two steps in the direction of the door, turns back to look at me. I don't know what he's thinking. I'm on my knees on the unmade bed, in my flannel pyjamas, with my hair in a chaotic mess ―quite possibly looking like the biggest freak in Hyrule. There is no way to guess what he thinks of my unkempt appearance, though.

"It's alright," he finally says, eyes on me. "I'm not mad at you."

I don't know what to say. I expected to have to plead my case even more, but now I'm short of words.

"You hate me," I say, cringing a bit.

All Link does is shake his head slowly. I can see he's red under the chin, where I hit him. He's probably going to have a small bruise there. I am mortified beyond words.

"It takes more than that to make me hate people," he says, softly. Then, his eyes light up a bit and he says, teasingly, "I get this feeling like Kotake trained you."

Now that I see he's really all right, I cross my arms and huff. "Well, men really shouldn't be allowed into women's rooms."

"Because they might get sucker-punched," Link chuckles. "I get it."

"I said I'm sorry!" I exclaim.

"And I said I'm not mad," Link replies, a bit calmer. "Anyway, get dressed. We have breakfast ready for you and Sheik is waiting. I know he's supposed to teach you horseback riding, but we figured some physical ed. might also be beneficial for you, so…" He trails off, and I expect him to leave. Still, he doesn't move. I wait for him to add something. He sighs and says, "I… Well…"

How strange. Link is hesitating! This never happened before.

"I… also wanted to wish you good luck for today," he finally says.

I think I'm going to faint from the sheer sweetness of him. Seriously. I'm starting to think that all this strictly business thing might become a heavy burden, especially if he's going around making girls fall in love with him.

Not that I'm in love with him. But at this rate it might happen faster than that twelve-wheeler Talon Ranch keeps warning Malon and I about.

"Thank you, Link," I say, shooting him a big, hopefully not-so-dopey smile.

He smiles, and, of course, he looks way more handsome than a guy ought to be allowed to. "I was thinking that you should wear a knee-length skirt. With sandals," he adds, winking.

I feel my stomach flip-flop at that. I've had people wink at me before, obviously, but Link's private little look has the power to make a girl weak at the knees.

"You want people to see my tattoo?" I ask, a bit sceptically, miraculously dissimulating his impact on me.

Link shrugs. "It's cute. It'll appeal to the masses. Phoenixes are respected symbols, after all."

"Right," I say. I'm beginning to suspect he might actually have a foot fetish after all. "Well, if you think so…"

Link smiles ―and looks fantastically handsome as he does so, of course, ― then turns on his heel to leave my room.

As he reaches the door, he turns back to grin at me and says, "Before you ever consider it, I do not have a foot fetish. But today's a warm day, and the tattoo might sell well."

With that, he exits my room, and I'm left to curse to myself and wonder how he manages to guess my every thought. Am I that easy to read? Is it just a coincidence? Please make it be just a coincidence.

I ponder this all morning, even as Sheik forces my body to stretch painfully during training. I think he's trying to make me into a ballerina or something. There is no way my body is made to flex that much. That's just unnatural. I'm sure we weren't made to know how to do the vertical splits. That's just a circus thing. Right?

And yet he makes me stretch every last muscle in my body, to Darunia's ever-lasting amusement. He's a good guy, really, but it'd be nice to have _some_ sympathy.

When finally my torture ends, Sheik says, as coolly as usual, "We'll have to work on that again."

Well, Nayru be damned. I cuss, which I technically am not allowed to do, and Darunia erupts in a bark of laughter.

I hate physical work.

I decide this as I eat my lunch, alone. It's delicious. Koume really is a delightful cook. Darunia left for a moment, to catch up with Tetra's assistants, whom he seems to be familiar with. I still ponder how to dissimulate my thoughts better, because clearly, I'm too easy to read. And that's not a good thing for a politician.

It's hard to think of myself as a politician, actually. And yet, I'm doing all these press related things, which I know nothing about and which terrify me beyond reason.

I catch myself wishing for home.

The thought surprises me. I'm comfortable here, and the people are nice enough.

But, at least, back home I felt safe. Because everything was familiar and I could do whatever I wanted, and plan my own day, and be nasty if I wanted to.

Here, I have to be nice all the time. I have to smile, and look great, and know what I'm doing. I have to be followed twenty-four seven by either different assistants of varying degrees of intelligence or a bodyguard who finds my life extremely amusing. I can't make any mistakes. I can't be weak. I can't freak out.

By the time I'm done with you, Link had said, you'll be the queen everyone wants you to be. I hadn't realised what that meant back then, but now I do. I'm being moulded into a shape that isn't for me. I'm being transformed into a sell-by product, and being put on the shelves, as Ganondorf had so cruelly said.

I'm beginning to think he's right. There's more to being queenly than just looking great and having the blood relation. You need the guts. You need the nerves to handle that power.

You can't, for instance, just be a wisecrack.

Koume walks by me and looks over my shoulder. I've stopped eating for the past ten minutes. She looks concerned. "Something wrong with the food?" She asks, in that scratchy voice of hers.

I'm startled out of my thoughts. "Huh? Oh, no. No, the food is great." I force a laugh. "I was just thinking. But it's great. The food, I mean. And everything else too." I can see she's raising her brow. "Everything is just… you know. Great." I finish off with a last, pretty smile.

Koume contemplates my face for a moment, but then she nods sceptically and returns to her usual activities. I watch her go with a rapidly increasing depression.

I am so full of it.

I can't believe I'm here, going along with this, pretending that nothing is wrong. What happened to my blunt honesty? I'm thinking that all these lessons to become a good queen are beginning to affect me. I'm losing track of myself.

What happened to me?

The question rolls around in my head all afternoon, until four.

By that time, I'm busy digging for a decent outfit for the conference. As per Link's suggestion, I choose a nice, light green skirt and elegant black sandals. I finally choose a black, adjusted work shirt. I put up my hair exactly as Tetra taught me to, so that it looks flawless. And then I look at myself in the mirror, and I feel like I'm an impostor.

I also feel like I might vomit at any moment, which, for a woman who is supposed to be doing press conferences for the rest of her life, isn't exactly a good prospect.

There's a knock on my door, and Tetra comes in, looking very cold and fidgety. I realise that she's just about as nervous as me. "Come on, the journalists are all packed in front of the palace. You're on in fifteen minutes."

"Why am I doing this again?" I ask.

Tetra strides up to me, giving me a once over, and says, "You're doing this because if you don't, we're all screwed. Nice skirt."

"Thanks," I say automatically, because in spite of extreme nervousness, women can always manage to talk about clothes, "I thought it'd be nice with black."

"Good choice," she nods, but this time fashion talk hasn't managed to alleviate the tension we feel. "Now," she breathes, "either we sink or we swim. Please," she implores, with a touch of humour, "doggy paddle, but do not drown."

I force a laugh, but she's hit something right. I'm doggy paddling. This isn't my place, since, if it were, I'd be doing lengthy backstrokes instead of desperate attempts at keeping my head above the surface.

In spite of that, she pushes me out of the room, all the while adjusting her own clothes. They're a sober, dark grey. She looks fantastic in them, to my dismay.

I also wonder where Link is. Tetra doesn't seem to realise my publicist is absent. She pushes me down the hallway, down the stairs, down more hallways, up to the lobby, where the doors are open. She drags me to a corner where sneaky journalists can't see us, and says, "Now, remember. Whatever happens, keep your cool."

"And my head clear," I finish.

"Yes. Focus on their questions, answer as well as possible. Remember, you're the perfect queen for them. They will want to have you at their head after this."

I realise my nausea is back with a vengeance. I close my eyes to quell the urge to just roll up into a human ball and rock back and forth, whimpering. I manage to push my nausea away, but my stomach is still knotted uncomfortably.

There's a hand on my shoulder. I turn, and look at Link, who, contrary to Tetra, is doing his best to look encouraging.

Why? Why am I doing this?

"You'll be fine," he assures me, and that just makes me doubt myself more.

I don't answer him, because, alarmingly, I don't trust myself to open my mouth.

And then, they walk me to the front doors. Already, the journalists are taking pictures excitedly through the doorway. Now is my time to start smiling. That's what Tetra said. Smile before you go on stage. Smile so that it seems as though you can smile off-scene without any trouble.

I do that. I smile. Come to think of it, so far, my smiles are the only things that seem to work.

Then, I try to walk straight and confidently. Link and Tetra follow me, but I have to walk to the podium without their help, and I have to look great as I do so.

By some miracle, I don't trip on my own feet. I almost did, unsurprisingly, though. My ankles brushed a bit too close to one another, but I have high hopes that no one will have noticed.

I reach the podium, and I thank its presence mentally. I can grip something now, and I'm half-hidden. Now they'll be judging my face, not my skirt or my gait.

I keep smiling, but I feel strained. Today is not exactly the most relaxed day of my life.

The light flashes go on for what seems like forever. I keep smiling, and, because Link warned me to, I scan the crowd blindly. I say blindly because though my eyes are open, I only see a moving throng that shines intermittently. The butterflies in my stomach have tied it up into a mass of braided innards, and my mouth feels dry.

I clear my throat, and the sound echoes all over. The flashes stop, mostly, but a couple still go on, every few seconds. I hear a hum and some whispers.

I am petrified.

"Greetings," I start, my voice a bit squeaky, staring at my speech unseeingly, starting off because I know the first line by heart, "I am… delighted to welcome you to Marcastle palace. This is a… a grand day for me." My last words echo in the air.

I blink to try and read the next line of my speech, because there's a heavy blank in my mind and because my view is all hazy. The flashes stop, and there are a couple of whispers that begin to make their way in the assembly. To me, they sound mocking.

Resisting the onslaught of humiliation, I clear my throat again, and the sound echoes around me, tauntingly, teasing my racing brain with the fact that I don't know what I'm doing.

"This… occasion will most likely bring answers to many of your questions," I say, feeling relieved that I managed that next sentence. "In fact, I have resolved to give you and the nation the answers to their current greatest concerns, mostly regarding environmental protection, economical stability, and hopefully give you a clear outline of what I intend to do for the future of Hyrule."

I'm speaking too fast. I have to slow down. "I wish also… to inform you all… of my decision to…" Oh Din. "To… officially run as a candidate to the throne. It is my firm belief," I can't believe I'm saying this bull, "that I can be an apt ruler, one who will lead Hyrule farther than my adversary."

My blood is rushing to my brain. I can't help but feel like something is really wrong with what I'm saying. This must be a horrible sign that I'm not meant to be here. This isn't my place.

I'm just a wisecrack. I don't have this strength. I'm not made for this.

I open my mouth to continue, but no sound comes out. There it is again, that uncontrollable urge to just run away and disappear and never endure this again. I try to force a sound out, but it's like air won't even go in or out.

Breathe, Zelda, breathe.

But breathing feels like it might hurt. I'm feeling strangled.

My eyes are growing moist, and I close my eyes, and shut my mouth, and just focus on breathing.

I can hear everything around me. I hear Link and Tetra shifting uncomfortably, and the journalists clicking away in frenzy, taking pictures of this future ruler who can't even speak in public. I hear my heart rate beating wildly in my ears, and the wind in the microphone and speakers, and the steadily increasing level of whispers that are a bit amused at my impossible silence.

With sudden clarity, I open my eyes again, and see their faces in detail. With a small smile, I say, "Do forgive me. I'm new at giving press conferences."

This isn't in the rules, but guess what, Link? Fuck the rules.

Link has just shifted rather suddenly. I can guess his and Tetra's gazes on my back, boring into it, without understanding. There's a bit of nervous laughter in the audience. I keep smiling. "Actually," I declare factually, "most of the time, I get so nervous that I lose track of everything and it mostly comes out in a meaningless jumble."

I almost feel Link's tension as though it were mine.

"But…" I say, unsure of what I'm saying or where I'm headed, "You'll have to credit that to my lack of experience dealing with the press. I'm… not experienced," I say, and this causes many people in the audience to raise their brows and look at each other uncertainly. I can't help a small laugh. "I know that's not what I'm supposed to say. I know I should be saying stuff like, 'I know what you people want' and 'I know I'm the best'. The fact is, I don't."

I can hear Tetra walking off the stage. I know it's her because her shoes make a sound. I also can guess that she's given up on me, and that makes me feel even worse. I can't decide from the sound if Link also left with her.

But I'm on this road. There's no going back.

"I don't know if I'm the best out there," I continue. "And I don't want to claim the title without having deserved it. That's why…" I'm digging my own grave, I realise. I'm also saying stuff that is contrary to what I want to say, which is driving me nuts. This is lame, and very uncool. "That's why I don't want to assume your desires. I want to become what you, as a nation, want me to be." I take a deep breath and feel a bit light-headed. My brain is racing: what am I talking about? I do not want to be queen; I do not want to be queen! "I can't tell you what I'm going to become, but I can tell you what you're working with."

I smile, but I feel like screaming my head off. Why am I saying this? "I'm eager, I'm smart, and I'm real. I've been in your shoes. Riches and power constantly astonish me because they're something I hardly ever knew anything about. You know my story. By now it's all over the place, told by every angle imaginable."

I shake my head a bit slowly, unable to determine why I'm not backing out, as I should. It's like I'm making my own apology. "I paid my taxes and had to save up for flip-flops, and I worked in a café and I was looking at a very bleak future." I don't mention the Laundromat.

My eyes scan the crowd. They stopped taking pictures, and some are staring at me, as though they can't believe that I'm up here saying stuff like this.

Oh Nayru, what am I doing?

"And then, I was offered a place here, to become someone useful and I was offered a new life, and a chance to make a difference." I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what I'm doing. "And I wanted to take that chance."

Oh Din. What am I saying? It's like I'm possessed or something.

But there's a part of me that's nagging my mind and telling me that I'm the one saying all this, and that no one is forcing me to, and that tiny part of me is fighting against the shaky, terrified waitress who seemed to make me want to vomit in the very beginning.

Right now, I'm nervous, but I don't feel like puking. Not anymore.

"So," I say, uncertainly, "I'm not good at speeches. I need serious stress management." I force a laugh, and then it turns to a giggle. "Seriously," I add, imitating Malon's tone.

Then, something really weird happens. I'm sure I hear someone chuckle along with me. But I don't know which of the reporters did.

"And I haven't learned everything there is to learn yet. But I'm learning fast. I think I can become a good queen. No," I shake my head with a smile, "Not a good queen, a great queen. All I'm asking is that you give me the chance to surpass even Ganondorf." I don't mean to sound smart, but I do. "And now, I'll be answering your questions to the very best of my ability."

A reporter raises his hand, and I smile at him.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for that… eloquent speech, Miss Harkinian," he says, and his introduction earns him a couple of chuckles from his colleagues. I feel something twisting inside of me, but bite it down. If I'm going to break down, it's going to be back home in Lakeside, on Anju's couch, with chocolate ice cream. "We were wondering what your thoughts on Hyrule's economical development were."

I smile at him. The answer I give him tumbles out of my mouth, sounding extremely controlled, and I have no clue how it came to me.

"That's a rather open-ended question. It's important to realise that the direction Hyrule is taking versus other countries, and I mean by this that protectionism is being implemented, as you surely already know, is merely reflective of the world's current development. Many new technologies and industrial booms are happening and have been happening for the past two years." I say this because I read it from Anju's newspaper clippings. "The obvious speed of this development is enough to cause economical instability. In order to protect themselves, countries on a worldwide scale are currently employing trade barriers, so to speak, and will do so until each of their individual systems become stable enough to open up to international markets again. That is merely a turn in Hyrule's own history, and nothing to be concerned about."

I hesitate, suddenly, shocked by my incredible answer. I can't believe that just came out of my mouth. I'm supposed to be pulling out, not diving in!

And… uh, am I the only one who thinks what I just said was amazingly cool?

"Any other questions?" I ask, when I notice that the crowd looks stunned, and feeling a bit stunned myself.

"What do you think of your adversary, Ganondorf Dragmire?"

Oh. Whoops and goody.

"Ganondorf Dragmire is…" I try to bite down my hatred for the man. "He's a very _thorough_ sort of person. He won't accept competition, and really believes the throne is his rightful place. In fact, it is likely that if I hadn't shown up, we all wouldn't have had any choice but to take him. Somehow, it seems that being able to choose our favourite ruler is a safe way to be happy. At least, if I were still living down south, I'd love to have a choice, and not be imposed with a man whose image of Hyrule is rotten."

There are a couple of excited, teasingly scandalized gasps. I ignore them. "Frankly, if you wish to know what Ganondorf Dragmire truly thinks, you ought to ask him what he thinks of me." I laugh lightly. "I don't blame him. I'd be upset if a waitress came and became the number one obstacle on the route to absolute power, too."

"Do you think of yourself as a queen or as a waitress?" A woman asks, holding up her recorder higher to capture my response.

I think about it for a long moment. Then, I say, in what I think is going to become my key quote and tomorrow's front page, judging by the journalists' bright faces, "What's the difference? I think a queen is a waitress, only instead of giving you soft drinks and biscuits I'd give you peace and prosperity. I want to work for the people. It's just another kind of waitress."

"So you think you'd be good for this role?"

There's a long silence, and flashes keep going. Then, I sigh, and I smile, and feel a bit unhappy, because I've never really resolved this myself, and I say, "I think I'd be the best queen Hyrule has ever had."

The way the words echo on the speakers and into my gut makes me feel as though it can only be true. So, why do I still feel inadequate? It's like I'm lying to these people. I sound honest, and I sound true, and eager, and sincere, but I don't feel it.

Do I think I can be good as a queen? I know Link does, I know Rauru does, I know Tetra does, and now, the whole country does too. But I'm not so sure about it.

What, I wonder as I examine the crowd and ask for another question, am I doing? What sort of joke is this? Why does my heart feel sick but my mind continue on this one way track? Why am I going along with this when it makes me unbearably uncomfortable?

Why is it that when they ask for my opinion on the environment, I can answer them without hesitation, and feel genuine, and feel wrong at the same time?

Oh, heck. It seems I need as much guts to back out as I need to keep going. What am I going to do?

* * *

**Yay. Politics. I actually tried to simply portray a plausible national situation, hence the inclusion of protectionism. Thank you, Economy Teacher, for unknowingly providing back-up on this matter.**

**Also, we see that Zelda suffers from a sudden impostor syndrome. Obviously, this is going to play a certain role in her future decisions. ****I thought it'd be important to show that Zelda doesn't want the title of queen absolutely and that past decisions can still be questioned and cause insecurity, as they do in reality. **

**Sure, this isn't a real world, but I think some essential traits can still come forward in each character to immerse readers and add a loveable aspect to an otherwise fictional personality. ****In a way, it's important that people relate to the characters they read, so I work with that goal in mind. ****I hope it comes through. :)**

**See you next chapter. In the meantime, drop a word, okay?**

**Love,  
CM**


	9. Benefactor

**Oh boy. So tired. I would have continued working, but the skin on my left ring finger got cut open a few minutes ago and writing ―I'm left-handed― hurts like a btch since. I'll continue tomorrow morning. I hate finishing stuff at the last minute, but my brain just isn't there anymore. And, no, Project Boy cannot help me, since this is an individual project. I might need his help anyway, but I'll see about that tomorrow.**

**I'm still busy working away at the ever elusive chapter 19, by the way. I like how it's turned out so far, but it's moving along so sluggishly... Ergh.**

Anyway. Here's chapter 9 of OiH. Shocking! I'm aware it's been some time since I last posted, but the site just wouldn't load for a while there.

**Hm, yes, this chapter introduces one of my favourite characters in the story so far! I'll say more about this at the end notes. :D**

**Warning: Nothing more than what was in the previous chapters.**

**Once again, please enjoy.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Benefactor" **

As predicted, the line about waitresses and queens made front pages all over the country. People have been calling the palace to beg for interviews and TV spots.

Considering how scrappily my conference started out, I'm shocked that they retained only the part where I looked on top of things.

And yet, there are also negative words arising. Gossip magazines, websites, logs everywhere have begun to spread a rumour that I haven't graduated from high school, and that I'm founding my campaign on sullying Ganondorf Dragmire's reputation. They said I didn't improvise my speech yesterday, and that I'm only a good actress. How ironic.

Tetra, I learned, had left the stage yesterday because she was certain I was going to screw up. And when she overheard the rest of my conference, she started crying, with relief.

Needless to say, my discomfort has risen.

As for Link, he didn't leave with Tetra. He stayed right behind me all along, through the journalists' slight mockery and slight interest, patiently, never interrupting to plead that I was insane to get me offstage as fast as possible. When it was over, I turned to him, and he said nothing. He looked completely blank, which only made me feel worse. I know I assed them out.

I stayed to take a thousand million photos, and then he lead me back inside.

I didn't see Tetra at first, because she was too busy sobbing with relief in Gonzo's arms, to the giant's complete and utter glee. But when I came back in, exhausted beyond belief, she practically strangled me she was hugging me so hard.

I never saw Tetra that emotional… and that proud.

Link, on his part, merely looked at me with a weird sort of look that I couldn't categorize. Finally, he said, a bit slowly, "That's wasn't bad."

Which, in light of the situation, wasn't too reproachful.

Still, I retreated to my room as fast as possible, avoiding any further comments. At that point, I just wanted to curl up and die. I never felt more like an impostor than I felt then.

Which is why, this morning, when Kotake ―and not Link, who probably assumed I was going to sucker punch him again― came to wake me up, I said, "I'm not getting up."

I haven't been asleep all morning. I actually made use of my television and laptop to check out how I've been doing, dreading public response, and when I saw how utterly juvenile it all was, I just went back to bed and muffled my sobs.

I'm not supposed to be miserable, I say to myself. I'm supposed to be smiling, and happy, and gracious.

The thought only makes me unhappier.

"You have to get up." Kotake is about as stubborn as me. "Link says you have to be in the White Hall for a public hearing this afternoon with a Youth Group to protect the environment." Kotake sounds harsh. I don't blame her.

I just grumble and pull the thick comforter over my head. "I'll just stay here until everyone forgets me, okay? I messed up."

"You mean that some people thought that you were pathetic yesterday at your conference?" Kotake has a way of making it sound horrible. I don't answer her. "So what? People have been through worse than that. Just because some half-wit nutshells think you weren't anything to write home about doesn't mean everyone thinks that way."

"Yeah? What about all those rumours about me not having finished high school?" I'm being hysterical. "And all those things about me having learned that speech I did by heart? I mean," I sit up, and Kotake just looks at me flatly, "what kind of person goes around spreading rumours like that? Especially lies? Tell me!"

I'm being unfair. Kotake is, after all, just the old lady who does my bed every morning. She's hardly the one I want to be taking the anger out on, which should be myself.

Kotake just rolls her eyes. With the plainest tone I ever heard anyone use, she says, "You're being stupid, girl."

Uh. Wow.

"For one," Kotake says, "you have your college diploma. It's on paper, and you're probably still in the school records. So that rumour is going to die out. And for the speech, who cares if you learned it by heart or not? Politicians have been doing that for ages. Now stop moping around like you've suffered heartbreak. You're made of sterner stuff. Get out of bed, get dressed, and go talk to that bloody Youth Group so that they don't get angry and mess up my tapestries."

I'm speechless as I watch Kotake exit the room, hobbling as usual.

My stubborn side is telling me to lock myself up in my room and refuse to talk to anyone for the rest of the day.

But then I end up obeying her.

Maybe I'm a wuss, but I really do care for youth groups and the environment. I used to be in the Wood Scouts, after all.

Until they kicked me out for trying to syndicate them, that is.

When he greets me down in the dining room, where I'm eating lunch ―I skipped breakfast, ― Link smiles at me as though nothing is wrong. I can see that he looks tired, though. Behind him is Darunia, who, in spite of the general mood today, has no trouble keeping a broad smile on his lips.

"Hey, kiddo!" He greets me enthusiastically. "So? Had a nice night thinking about your newfound popularity?"

I'm starting to think that Darunia doesn't know what the words 'sensible' and 'sympathetic' mean.

"Actually, Darunia, I spent the worst night of my life realizing that I messed up what would have been a life-changing conference."

"Did you now?" Darunia asks, apparently unfazed by my obvious depression. He sits down beside me, and his chair creaks. Koume observes him warningly but puts a massive plate of food in front of him. "I'd think the journalists calling to ask for your presence at late-night shows would be proof enough that you're loveable."

"Loveable, I guess," I admit, laughing a bit, in spite of myself. Darunia has that effect on people. "But a good regnant queen? I'm not so sure."

"You sounded confident enough yesterday," Link comments between mouthfuls, staring at his spaghetti without much expression.

Darunia makes an eloquent motion with his hand at Link, who is rolling up his spaghetti on his fork while deliberately ignoring me, and says, "See? If the publicist says so…"

"Yeah, I sounded confident," I say, directly to Link. "But that's because you taught me to sound confident. I'm probably the best liar in all of Hyrule now, thanks to you. So, sure, I sounded confident. It doesn't mean anything."

Whoops, that didn't come out like I wanted it to.

Link looks up at me, with those sharp blue eyes ―oh, Din, I'm such a moron― and says nothing. Then, he turns to Koume, who just brought in a fruit bowl, and says, "Great spaghetti, Koume. Your tomato sauce is a killer."

Koume smiles at him toothily, as though she's trying not to be seduced by his natural, plain compliment, but I can see she's feeling all fuzzy inside.

I can safely say his blatant avoidance of my current concerns does not make me feel fuzzy inside. Quite the contrary, actually. I thought Link cared! Now, he sounds like some heartless, food-obsessed deaf imbecile.

Maybe I'm just cranky.

"And," he adds, in my direction, looking serious enough, but not like we're discussing life and death, "I'm going to be talking to you about this, but not at the moment, so hold that thought. I'm not through with you."

"I don't see what the big fuss is all about," Darunia continues, to me, as though Link hadn't really said anything significant. "You're the most honest person I know."

"Thanks, Darunia," I say, quietly.

"So," Darunia goes on, leaning forward towards Link over his huge plate of spaghetti, "what's today's match plan?"

Link finishes his bite, and says, to me, "You're going to be dealing with a Youth Group. A couple of journalists are going to be there, but you should be able to focus only on the kids. They come from the Kokiri area, and they're on about protecting the Kokiri Forest and Lost Woods. Well, you can discuss it with them."

Darunia looks bored. "Who cares about trees? We should talk about protecting volcanoes. Now that's something exciting. Did you know," he says to me, "that I'm from Goron City?"

"The place with the dormant volcano north of here?" I ask, vaguely interested. I don't know much about Darunia, so it's a great occasion to learn more about him.

"That's right," Darunia nods gleefully. "Goron City is pretty much built into the rock, so you can sometimes feel the mountain shake. Ever been there?" He asks me.

I shake my head. "Not on my salary."

Darunia frowns and looks reminiscent. "Shame. The place is great."

I smile. "I trust you on that one."

Darunia nods. "Maybe you'll go there, if you ever travel to Calatia."

"If I last that long."

Link suddenly stands. I jump, but he doesn't seem to acknowledge me. He's really weird today. He's distant, serious, like he has a lot on his mind. And why didn't he come to wake me up? I thought he had forgiven me for the elbow thing.

He takes his empty plate and brings it back to Koume. I hear them exchange a couple of words, and then he comes back. To me, he asks, "Done yet?"

I glance down at my almost-clear plate, and scarf down the few bites left. I know I shouldn't be doing this. Link warned me about it, too. But at this point, I'm not exactly going to be dainty about noodles and tomato sauce, no matter how delicious they may be.

"Now I am," I tell him, once my plate is duly cleaned up.

Darunia makes a comment under his breath about impossible schedules then proceeds to finish his own plate. He waves Link off. "You two kids go on ahead. I'll join you."

Link hardly acknowledges Darunia, which I think just goes to show how uncivil he's being today. I wave at my bodyguard, but Link practically tugs me out of the dining room and down the hallways.

He's so aggressive and sudden. I can't help but glare at him. "What's gotten into you?"

Link suddenly stops. It's like he put out the brakes or something. I nearly slam into him.

He turns around and says, "What's gotten into me?" Uh-oh. He doesn't look too happy. "What about what's gotten into you?" He asks.

He looks really baffled, and he's motioning with his hands a bit wildly. I can honestly say I've never seen him lose it like this. "One minute you're on about how you think you can be a great ruler and the next," he look incredulous, "you're unable to decide if you've got what it needs. You're on and off like a switch, constantly!" He looks suddenly hostile. "Would it be too much to ask that you make up your mind?"

I stare at him, and I feel my eyes grow moist. "Maybe it would. I haven't been here two weeks yet!"

"Maybe I should have chosen someone more decisive, then, to be a decisive queen?" Link says, looking suitably irate. This only fuels my own frustration.

"Maybe you should have," I answer him, feeling self-righteous. I jab a finger into his chest and say, feeling tears come to my eyes for sure, "This is all your fault. If you hadn't come to fetch me that day, we wouldn't be in this situation!"

Link lets out a sharp bark of laughter, but it's not amused. It's nasty, ironic, and, in a cruel, cynical tone, he says, "My fault? Oh, yeah. I'm sure you'd have been much happier cleaning tables for the rest of your life!"

I flinch. Then, with bite of my own, I say, "Maybe I would have! It would have been way better than being tossed around on an emotional roller coaster like the one you've made me endure for the past eleven days!"

Link glares at me, and the motion only exacerbates the sharpness of his blue eyes. I try my best to keep my gaze in his, but there's something in there, something wavering beyond the icy look. "Maybe you'd like to go back home, then?"

"Maybe I should," I say, but I'm surprised at what he just implied.

We fall into a heavy silence, sizing each other up. Link turns on his heel, and brings his hands up to his forehead, and I hear him heave a loud sigh.

"Look, Zelda," he says, now much calmer, and he turns to look at me earnestly, "That's not what I meant. I…" I see his gaze become almost imploring and apologetic, "I still think you have what it takes to become a fantastic queen. But I can't work with a girl who won't decide what she wants!"

I bite my lip and wipe my eyes. He comes forward. Because his touch is so gentle when he touches my upper arm, I don't move away.

He rubs my arms softly, and says, "I'm sorry."

"Give me five days?" I ask, and he observes me critically. "At the end of those five days, if I really can't handle it, I'll just bow out gracefully."

I know that poses a big problem: how will I tell the people I'm backing out after basically telling them I'm staying in the game? And who will replace me to ensure Ganondorf doesn't take the throne? Clearly, Link is also considering this. He doesn't look exactly happy. Still, I guess he can see there's no other solution, since he sighs and says, "Fine. But until then, no more talk about this."

I nod. There's a long, long silence between us. I notice, once again, how handsome Link is, even when he looks unsure. A lot of emotions pass on his face, fleetingly, too fast for me to identify them.

"They're waiting for you," he finally says, motioning vaguely. "In the white hall."

I follow him there, because I might get lost, since it's my style. We reach the lobby again. It seems I always end up here. Link pauses. In the doorway, near Rauru, is a young man with bright brown hair, on the longish side, in a sort of scraggly mess, looking relaxed in jeans and polo, with a bit of an arrogant, but teasing look in his bright green eyes.

"Who is that?" I ask, softly.

"Ralph Ambi," Link answers me, in surprise. "A symbolically titled lord from Labrynna. One of his ancestors was Queen Ambi of Labrynna. He was supposed to be there at the coronation, though I'll say he's earlier than expected."

No kidding.

Ralph turns to look at us at the same time as Rauru. He seems to notice Link first. "Hey, Forester. Long time no see."

Link smiles, looking a bit strained since our argument. He says, "Didn't want to miss any of the fun, Ralph?"

Ralph laughs. He looks good, I guess, though I'm not in the mood for social pleasantries, so maybe my opinion of him is lower than it should be. "I had to see your protégée before everyone else, and you know it." With those words, his eyes slide towards me, and he smirks. "I take it you're the lucky one we might be celebrating?"

I barely have time to welcome him that he's kissing my hand in greeting. Oh my. How noble. This is certainly the first time something like this happens to me. How exciting. Link examines the motion critically as I try to refrain from blushing my ears out. When Ralph doesn't move away, Link clears his throat loudly, looking more serious than is strictly necessary. Ralph looks up with a sort of interested smile.

"Sorry, Ralph." Link says, not looking as sorry as he sounds. "But as is, Zelda is already late for a meeting with a youth group."

"I see," Ralph says, smirking at Link without missing a beat. For some reason, Link looks annoyed at him. I can't really figure out why. "I might as well join in. You don't mind, do you, Miss Zelda?" He shoots me a charming smile.

I smile back, flattered by his use of the Miss before my name. "You're gladly welcome."

And indeed, he is, I consider half an hour later, when, sitting in front of a roomful of teens and preteens decked out in bright green, I realise that I should never cross the younger generations of Hyrule. I know that Ralph Ambi finds it all extremely amusing. He hasn't stopped smirking at me and at Link ―to my publicist's apparent annoyance, as though they have a personal vendetta against each other that Ralph has been winning― for the past half-hour.

Maybe Ralph has dealt with kids like this before, but I know I haven't.

"And this is why," the leader of the Youth Group concludes with the skill of any politician her elaborate speech about protecting trees, "it is our firm belief that a reserve in the area of Kokiri Forest is essential to the protection of the vast floral variety of the region."

Saria Woods is one of those obvious, hardcore protesters. She's a pretty girl roughly the same age as Aryll, though she's even more eccentric than Aryll, if that was ever possible. Saria has chosen to dye her hair in bright green, because, I think with amusement, the vivid colour of her shirt wasn't enough. Her blue eyes are pretty, and her skin is slightly tanned from staying outside, exploring the forests of Hyrule.

She's also one of those who, if given a cause, will fight for it to the death, as her conclusive, impossible-to-counter speech just demonstrated.

Right behind her is Mido Greene, her biggest admirer and minion. His hair is a natural bright red, even more shockingly so than Malon's. He's a freckled, awkward teen, with a fierce protective syndrome towards Saria. He's pretty much a bully and a loudmouth if there's anyone to boss around, but the moment Saria raises her finger, he's at her feet, waiting eagerly for new commands. A bit like a dog, I decide.

Ralph seems to find this whole thing absolutely hilarious, as his obvious smirk keeps reminding me. His green eyes are taking it all in with clear detachment. I notice that, well, he doesn't look that bad at all…

I realise the kids and the few journalists are expecting me to say something. I lean over to Link in my chair and ask, "Does the territory she's describing belong to anyone in particular, or does it belong to us?"

"Us," Link says, looking vaguely interested in the issue, "though you don't have the jurisdiction to do anything with it."

"Then why are they talking to me?"

Link holds back a small laugh. He's about to suggest something, when suddenly, Ralph leans over on my other side and whispers, "If I may propose something."

I turn to him and lean to hear whatever he may say. He and I are practically forehead-to-forehead, and Link has come by to overhear whatever Ralph is saying, with a bit of annoyance on his face, again. What's up with him? He's so weird with Ralph.

I know the three of us must look unbearably foolish, but whatever.

"Since you don't have the jurisdiction to physically help them, yet," Ralph says, "you might as well become their spokesperson."

"You mean… endorse them?" I ask.

Ralph nods and shrugs. "I do it all the time."

"And it works?" I ask again.

"Sure it works. Makes them feel good, and it makes you look good."

I squint at him, holding back a smile. "You're being silly."

Ralph smirks. Okay, so maybe he's a bit very cute. Link looks up at me with mild approval of Ralph's suggestion. Oh dear, now there's a hunk. Whoops. I ought to shift gears. It's one thing being surrounded by handsome men, it's quite another to be surrounded by two good-looking guys and a swarm of eager protesters.

I stand once I get Link's approving nod. To the assembly, and more precisely to Saria Woods, I say, "As you all surely know, it is not yet in my power to manage the lands of the country. However," I say before any of their faces can get too depressed or angry, and before Mido Greene gets a coronary, "I am very flattered that you have chosen me to speak of your concerns regarding the environment. It is a matter that also weighs heavily on my mind, and as such, I wish to tell you that I fully endorse your project."

I pause, for dramatic effect, and because I just realised I was speaking a tad too fast. "Rest assured that I will properly inform myself on the subject and contact you with news within the next month. If all goes well," I add, leaving myself a door to escape, and remembering that I may want to back out of this before that.

A female journalist stands suddenly, and asks, "Does the environment matter to you, Miss Harkinian?"

I smile at her pleasantly. "It always has."

This is a gossip columnist, most likely, since she smiles back charmingly and asks, "Even though you were kicked out of Wood Scouts because you tried syndicating your group?"

My smile kinda freezes on my face. I hear Ralph erupting in sudden laughter. I turn to Link, who looks just as surprised, though not nearly as mortified as me. He says, "I promise I haven't said a word."

The rest of the room looks extremely amused. I see Saria looks fascinated to hear my tale. I try to smile sheepishly, though I'm really embarrassed beyond words.

"I see there's no keeping secrets from the press," I joke. When the journalists shake their heads like, 'No, so you might as well give up', I admit, "Yes. I got kicked out of Wood Scouts because I was bit unconventional."

"Do you still feel bitter about that?"

I pretend to look pensive. The truth is, I kind of still am. But I better not get Wood Scouts in trouble. I say, "You know, not really. It was a fun experience while it lasted. I was going through my revolutionary phase at the time, and unfortunately, I happened to be risking my spot. But I don't blame them for kicking me out. I wasn't exactly a pleasant cup of tea back then."

"So, you have nothing you want to say to Wood Scouts today?" The columnist asks, looking a bit disappointed.

I laugh. "Well, I do." I wink at Saria, who is listening to the conversation intently and with great amusement. "I hope they still teach kids how to make rope knots. I remember I used to sit in my room all day practicing them. Great stuff."

I say this with as much humour as possible, and the room seems to lighten up.

I watch the journalists pack their things. The Youth Group seems a bit less eager to make a deadline, so they stay as much as possible, even though I can see Kotake near the door, waiting for them to get out and to clean after them. Darunia is standing beside Kotake, giving me major thumbs up across the room as he tries to keep her from mumbling her discontent too loud.

Saria comes to hand me her coordinates. She says, in a low whisper, "I don't know if you did this for us or for yourself, but I suppose I can only say thank you. At least we got some press time."

I take her address and phone number, and say, in all sincerity, "I really do care for the forest, Saria." She looks pleased that I haven't forgotten her name. I add, "I don't know much about protecting the environment, but I do care for it."

"Well," Saria says with a grin, "I'm glad to see you're capable of caring. Since you're our spokesperson, I'm going to be rooting for you. Also," she adds, with a secretive, teasing smile, "Any woman capable of attracting so much male attention has got to be either a good person or a complete slut. And you are definitely not the latter."

I try to smile pleasantly. "Um… Thank you, then. I guess." Wait. What male attention? "And, um, Link and Ralph are just there to help me. Well, Ralph is there because he wanted a good distraction, but…"

Saria laughs at my attempt to justify their presence. "It doesn't matter why they're there. I mean about their devotion to you. It's truly moving."

And, wow, I sincerely have no clue what she's on about.

Still, when I accompany the group back out the lobby and out on the palace front grounds, Saria examines Link and Ralph critically, then comes back to whisper in my ear, "Take the blonde guy."

I swear my face becomes beet red. She giggles then smiles at Link, whose eyebrow rises. It's like the two come to a silent understanding, because when Saria turns back to talk to some younger protesters on the way out, Link is smiling to himself, amused. Don't think I didn't notice.

I'm not the only one who marked the non-verbal exchange between Link and Saria. Mido too, noted it, and he spent the rest of their walk back to the street glaring at Link over his shoulder angrily and with impossible jealousy.

"Well," Ralph says, coming to stand by my side once they're all gone and before I can catch Link's eye, "that was eventful. Feel any better since saving those poor trees?"

I can't help but smile. "Just a bit."

"Just a bit? Now that won't do," Ralph tisks. "I happen to know the ultimate remedy to depression."

His confident tone makes me smile. "Really? And what is that?"

Ralph is about to explain it to me in a serious conspiratorial tone, but Link suddenly interrupts him. Ralph looks annoyed at the constant cut-ins, and says, "What is it, oh great one? Can't stand to let your students have fun?"

Link glares at him. "That has nothing to do with it." To me, he says, "Now we have to get you ready for tomorrow's trip."

Huh? What? "What trip?"

"The trip to Minish. You're supposed to escort Ezlo Picori, the president of Minish, and Kaepora Gaebora, our ambassador over there, back here, for symbolic purposes. They're old men."

Oh, I think as Ralph complains about having just arrived. Crud.

* * *

**Yes! Ralph has been introduced. For those who are confused, Ralph is from the _Oracle of Ages_ game. He was the Oracle Nayru's guardian and childhood friend, remember? Even if you didn't like him, I made him into a fun character. He'll be returning, too, so learn to accept him as a side dish.**

**And yes, I made him cute! He kind of was in the first place. I just elaborated on it (and gave him a much needed haircut, in my head at least). He's there for... scenic purposes. Ahem.**

**Kidding aside, though, Ralph will have a key role somewhere along the way, so keep an eye on him.Ohoho. So mysterious.**

**Nothing else to add. Maybe you have something you'd like to say? Don't hesitate to review.**

**Love,  
CM**


	10. Ambassador

**Here's chapter 10 of OiH, because I obviously can't be working on what really matters (i.e. schoolwork). Oh, cookies! ****+steals cookie from sibling+**

**Note: This is one of the extremely rare, if not the only chapter where Zelda is actually in another country! I know. I even astonish myself at times. We're in Minish (oh, what a surprise. It's not like I didn't warn anyone about this in the two previous chapters).**

**Other note: I should make a special precision. I know most of you either don't care or already understood it, but there's a little difference to make between Hyrulians and Hylians. The first are all the inhabitants of the country of Hyrule. The second are all the inhabitants of countries in the Hylian Alliance, which includes the country of Hyrule, Minish, Calatia, Termina, Waker Islands, Holodrum and Labrynna. So, for instance, even though Aryll is an islander from the Waker Islands, she's also a Hylian. Zelda, on her part, is a Hyrulian and a Hylian. People from Minish are both Minish and Hylian. And so on. All clear? Cool.**

**Warnings: None. Except some serious Link hotness. But if you didn't start frothing at the mouth back in chapter 1, then you should be fine.**

**Love y'all. Please enjoy.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Ambassador"**

My thirteenth day as candidate for queen and all I can seem to think about is, "Link," the sound comes out as a whine, "my feet hurt. Badly."

Link glances my way as the car drives towards the Hyrulian embassy in Minish. He looks down at my pumps critically. I know his attention was detracted from the view outside, which is nothing short of special.

After all, Minish is a small, quaint country, with small, quaint people. Still, it doesn't keep them from having an impressive, strange architecture. The capital of Minish, High Town, is located on a plateau in the middle of Minish Plain, with long, thin, spiralling towers and chimneys. From afar, the place looks like a delicate sort of gnomish structure. The landscape is lush and green, with many fields and lots of gentle, welcoming people. I saw High Town the moment I stepped out of the plane, in the airport. After that, a limo came to pick Link and I up.

It's early morning, and I haven't slept all night because of the flight, and my shoes, damn them, are killing me.

Link isn't nearly so sympathetic. "Cut them off, then."

My pitiful puppy-face dies and I glare at him as he grins. "You're a heartless bastard."

"Bastard is my middle name," he says, matching my tone with amusement. "I'm hardly going to be insulted."

I roll my eyes and kick my pumps off. Immediately, I feel relieved. I know I'm going to get blisters anyway, but for the time being, I just wiggle my toes and enjoy their freedom. I let my head fall back onto my headrest with a sigh.

Link looks at my wiggling toes, then up at my relieved face, and says, "If they hurt so much, why did you choose them for this trip?"

I roll my eyes and look at him out the corner of my eyes. "Um, hello. How was I supposed to know they were tools for murder?"

My publicist, instead of looking sympathetic, shoots me a flat, sort of bored look. "And you don't have any other shoes in your bag?"

I close my eyes and feel very miserable. "No. I didn't realise these would be so painful."

"Well," Link says, shrugging, "life is just another teacher who works without getting paid for her efforts."

I glare at nothing in particular and think of my poor, abused toes. "If life is going to be such a bitch, I hardly see why she'd even get a tip. And now, I feel a headache coming on."

The limo slows down as we roll through the city. Link says, with seemingly infinite patience, "Even if you feel like murdering someone, at least pretend to be pleased to see these two guys, okay?"

"Yeah," I grumble. "I know. Do you have some Green Potion, or something? This headache is turning to a migraine."

"I don't carry the contents of my medicine cabinet in my luggage," Link says, plainly. "But if you promise to be pleasant to Ezlo and Kaepora, I'll go on a quest to find some medication for you."

"A quest," I say, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples, which are now throbbing horribly. "How lovely."

"You have to promise," Link taunts me, and I feel like hitting him. Or shagging him, whichever feels better.

"Fine," I promise. "It's not like I had much of a choice, now, did I?"

"You don't." He turns his attention to the front of the limo, and at the back of the chauffeur's head, again. "And now, you're going to listen."

I squint at him, curling my toes to get blood flowing into them. But my full attention is on him. "Why are you so nasty today? Did you find a Dodongo in your toilet this morning?"

Link turns to me and rolls his eyes. "Of course. Then, I roasted it and had it for breakfast."

"Link. I'm serious."

"As I am," Link insists. "It was a nasty little blighter. I actually had to fight it with a stick."

I stare at him, a bit dumbfounded. "You're kidding." But it's impossible to be sure. "Right?"

Darunia, who until now has been sitting in the front seat, next to the chauffeur, far ahead of us, turns back to say, "Link, bro, stop saying random bull." To me, Darunia says, in visible amusement, "He's just frustrated because Aryll has been asking to go downtown and be part of Marcastle's nightlife, if you see what I mean. And Tetra refused to be her babysitter."

My eyebrows rise and I turn to look at Link. He's looking a bit sullen, avoiding Darunia's laughter by looking out his window. I reach out to pat his shoulder.

"It's alright, Link. Aryll's just a normal teen. You should be glad that she actually wants to be weird and go out. It's a sign that it can only get better."

Link turns to me, looking half disturbed and half incredulous. "What the heck are you talking about? Was that supposed to make me feel better?" I grin at him. He rolls his eyes. "She's underage. She's risking a criminal record. I'd rather she wait."

"Obviously," I nod solemnly, enjoying this. But then, the nod makes my brain swim inside my skull, and I bring a hand up to my forehead, wincing. "But at least, you're sure she's normal, now."

Link rolls his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub my nape soothingly. Does he know how good this feels? Oh, purr. Who cares? "Alright, smarty. Back on topic: you have to understand a couple of things about Ezlo Picori and Kaepora Gaebora."

I try to focus on what he's saying, except his hand on my nape is totally hitting that sensitive part of my spine that loves being rubbed, and it's helping to ease my headache, and where did he learn to do this?

Darunia clears his throat. Instantly, I feel Link's fingers dart away from my neck, and I see him try to busy those talented hands of his in adjusting his shirt cuffs. I turn a mild glare at Darunia. "He was totally helping my headache!" I exclaim, and then my exclamation disperses all the effects of Link's gentle massage. I wince.

"Yes, but if anyone saw him do it, it may look like a good gossip," Darunia says.

Fuck the gossip, the eager side of me complains. I want Link's hands on me. Whoops, that didn't sound right. Thank goodness it was only in my head.

"As I was saying," Link breaks in loudly making my headache spike ―he shoots me an apologetic look, "Ezlo Picori and Kaepora Gaebora." I nod softly, feeling my horrible migraine pulsing all over the surface of my skull. "Both are good men, except they can grow annoying fast. Especially Kaepora. The only reason he's our ambassador in Minish is because he was so talkative and annoying back in our parliament that we thought it'd be a good riddance to send him over frontiers."

I try not to laugh. Darunia doesn't feel any compunction to hold back, though. He laughs outright and shakes his head.

Link too looks amused, but he manages not to get sidetracked. "As for Ezlo, he's the president of Minish. He's very smart, and also ancient. He's the oldest of the attendees to the coronation. And, as you're sure to notice, he's also the smallest." Link presses his lips together and sends me an eloquent look. "But don't make him notice it. It upsets him."

"And never interrupt one of Kaepora Gaebora's speeches either. He doesn't take kindly to that," Darunia says, on the same tone.

"Um, okay," I nod. "Is there a way to keep him from getting started?"

Link and Darunia exchange helpless glances. Finally, Link turns to me and admits, "If there is, we have yet to find it."

Oh. Yucky.

"Well," I say, a bit sarcastically, "that's another life goal for me, then."

The limo slows to a stop, and I look out my window. Link leans over towards me to look at the building as well. I get a small whiff of his aftershave. Why can't I just grab―

"That's the embassy of Hyrule in Minish," he says, to me, and I tear my eyes away from his handsome profile to gaze at the embassy.

"Really?" I ask innocently, trying to hide the fact that my thoughts are on the salacious side. "It looks like…" I bite my lip and feel my headache throb again. "It looks like every other building in this city."

Link looks at me. Oh, he's close enough to kiss. I can feel his warmth because his forearm is brushing my knee. In a level voice, he asks, "Are you sure you're going to be alright?"

Let me see. I'm about to go inside an embassy on foreign soil with a raging headache and mutilated feet to parade in front of my country's ambassador and this country's president, and right now the only remedy I can think of is pushing my publicist onto his back and screwing him passionately.

"I'm fine," I say with a strained smile.

Link nods. "I'll trust your word." He straightens up again, thus leaving me some space to breathe. I see him nodding at Darunia. "Get her through security and everything. I have some errands to run."

"What?" I turn to him in mild shock. The swift movement hurts my mind again. I flinch. "What about me? Don't go shopping and leave me to deal with these guys!"

Link looks at me with a positive, confident, tight-lipped smile. "You'll be just fine."

I glare at him, but my door opens. Darunia leans in and says, "Come on out, 'Princess'."

With a sigh, I pull my killer pumps back onto my feet and brace myself for the painful walk that is sure to follow. Darunia helps me out of the car and onto my feet. Instantly, a sharp jab of pain shoots through both my legs. I nearly fall back down, but Link's arm keeps me steady. He nods once I'm steady on my throbbing, aching feet, and watches Darunia take my luggage out of the trunk.

He says, "I'll see you at dinner."

I nod, trying to keep my breathing level, but it's hard when you feel like rusted nails are being driven into your ankles and soles.

Link goes back inside the limo, in the place Darunia has vacated next to the driver. I see him take his cell phone out and dial. As he closes the limo door, I hear him ask, "Hey, Tetra. What size of shoes do you wear?"

Before I can get upset that he's doing shopping for Tetra and leaving me behind in the process, the limo drives away. Darunia turns me back towards the embassy.

"Smile, kid," he says. Without thinking much, I do as he says. Smiling has become a second nature.

The security check is absurdly tedious. Both Darunia and I are searched and sent through a metal detector, which leads to interesting explanations on Darunia's part.

"This is…?" The guard asks, holding up a small black device that he found in Darunia's front pocket.

"A stun gun," Darunia says, looking gradually less comfortable as they make him justify the wide paraphernalia of instruments he can use to defend me. I'm impressed. I've never seen all of Darunia's tools.

"And this?"

"A dazzler," Darunia explains, glancing my way.

I turn to the security officer, trying to control my raging headache. "Um, since you're a security guy, don't you already know what all these things are anyway?" I'm met with a flat, a bit condescending look. I shake my head, closing my eyes against the pain that throbs from both ends of me. "Oh, just, never mind."

"Do you have any ID?" A security guard asks, and Darunia's thick eyebrows rise high on his forehead.

"We do," he says, and hands over both his and my card, with a subtle wink to me. Frankly, the entertainment is lost on me, since I'm trying not to keel over because of my shoes.

As the guards verify the authenticity of our cards, I hear an excited cry from behind us. Both Darunia and I turn.

"Miss Princess Zelda Harkinian Nohansen!" A massive man exclaims. He's wearing a three-piece brown suit, and his thick eyebrows over a narrow, crooked nose make him look like a crazy owl. He jogs over to us, and the simple exercise makes him look breathless. "It's wonderful to finally see you, live, in person!"

I stare at him blankly, but then Darunia nudges me and says, "Gaebora."

I finally click. "Oh, Ambassador."

Kaepora Gaebora looks gleeful that I understood who he is. "Yes, it is I. It is I." He nods to himself a bit spasmodically then comes to engulf my hand in his, causing the security guards' unsure expression. "And you are the one who might become our queen, my queen, the queen of Hyrule!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the guards slipping our ID back to Darunia, with an embarrassed, apologetic look. Darunia looks a bit smug, I think.

"Um," I say, unsure of how to treat this guy, "yes. This is my bodyguard, Darunia."

Darunia pockets his dazzler and turns to us, smiling, glad that the security check is over. Kaepora Gaebora, far from being intimidated by Darunia's immense stature, looks happy that I didn't come alone.

"It's wonderful to meet you both." He turns to me, swiftly, exactly like an owl, with big, blinking eyes. "But I'm especially glad that you have graced us with your presence. Ganondorf Dragmire absolutely refused to." Kaepora Gaebora looks offended.

I must say Ganondorf Dragmire isn't such a stupid man.

"But I was told you were supposed to be accompanied by two men…" Kaepora says, examining the area around us in a nearly caricatural fashion. "Where is the second man?"

"My publicist, Link Forester," I explain, glad that I can actually slip in a word or two. "He's off to run some errands." Yeah, more like off to shop for Tetra. "He'll join us for dinner."

"Yes," Kaepora exclaims, his eyes bulging, "you must be starved and tired. The trip must have been tedious. We have rooms for you here, but the two men must share." He shoots Darunia a quick, blank look then turns back to me. "As for President Ezlo Picori, he's going to be accompanying us on the way back to Hyrule tomorrow." He motions for us to follow him and claps his hands. "It's been so long since I last saw Hyrule. It'll be good to be home."

I try to follow him without flinching at the pain in my feet.

"Did you know that the people of Minish have an average height that is approximately twenty per cent shorter than that of the rest of the Hylian Alliance?" Kaepora doesn't seem to realise how uncomfortable I am. "It's incredible, isn't it?"

I'm beginning to understand why they sent him into duty exile. The guy is making my headache throb. Badly. I smile as best as I can under the circumstances, though I just want to lock myself up in a hotel room, get strung on Green Potion and sleep the next forty-eight hours away.

"It's incredible," I say, to humour him.

"I thought so too!" Gaebora exclaims. "They're also renowned for their incredible gardening abilities."

Oh great. I can just sense this is going to be the most boring day of my whole life. Link, that little bastard, totally knew what he was doing when he eclipsed himself like that.

I wonder what he's buying for Tetra. Hopefully not a ring; it'd break Gonzo's heart, poor guy. And it'd be kind of depressing for me, too.

Darunia nudges me back to reality. Kaepora just asked me a question and is looking at me expectantly. Shit.

"I'm sorry," I say, to my embarrassment, "but I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that."

Kaepora Gaebora looks a bit reproachful, and I expect him to repeat his whole impossible speech, but then he lightens up and says, "I suppose you're very tired indeed." He motions us up the stairs. "Let me show you where you will be sleeping overnight."

Oh, Nayru be loved… Wait a minute. Stairs? Stairs?

I shoot Darunia a helpless look as my feet throb again, almost in anticipated pain. He looks at me a bit helplessly as Kaepora Gaebora keeps climbing the steps. He leans towards me and whispers, really softly, "Lean onto me."

I gratefully put a hand on his shoulder and let him slip his arm around my waist. Then, with amazing strength, he heaves me upwards, so that I'm moving my legs, but hardly any weight actually rests on my feet. We hurry the best we can so that no one will notice.

When we reach the second floor, Darunia lets go of me, and I shoot him the most grateful look I can muster. He shrugs with a grin.

Kaepora Gaebora is still speaking. He's saying something about cherubs and Middle Ages painters. I haven't really been paying attention, but I figure it's just another one of his did-you-knows, and he won't be quizzing me later on.

I hope.

"Here is your room. Right next door, with a communicating door, is the men's guest room. We wanted to paint it in peach, but then…"

Darunia and I enter our respective quarters with almost embarrassing relief. I turn and wait for Kaepora to finish on his speech loop. Finally, he slows down with a, "So it would be best if I had a valet fetch your luggage. Would you like me to repeat that?" He adds, teasingly, as I yawn from exhaustion.

I turn to him, a bit out of it because of my killer headache. "Yes? Oh, uh, I mean, no! No." It's hard to keep your dignity when you feel like jabbing your shoes down the toilet. I try a little laugh. "I'm fine. Really."

"Good," Kaepora says, and, not missing a beat, he goes on, "I suppose you can have a nice little nap before dinner. After dinner, Ezlo Picori will join us for a discussion in the gardens. You're cordially invited."

That means, as Link warned me, that I have no choice but to be there.

"And Ezlo Picori will be having supper with us as well. And tomorrow morning," he makes a sweeping motion with his arm, "we're off and back to Hyrule." He finishes off with a gleeful laugh. I force a pleasant, amused smile.

With that, he's out of my room, and the newfound silence is the most beautiful thing I ever heard. I close the door after the valet abandons my luggage inside my room. I kick off my shoes and try to control my anger for them then let myself fall back onto my big, ironically queen-sized bed.

I'm out like a light.

The next thing I know, someone is nudging me awake and my headache is back full-force. With a pained groan, I rub my head and shut my eyes tighter against the horrible onslaught of reality.

Let me sleep! I was just getting comfortable!

"Zelda." What's Link doing in my bed? "Zelda, wake up, I have something for you." Am I still dreaming? This could be really good if I didn't have this horrible migraine.

"Leave me alone."

Link shifts from my side, and the mattress rises without his weight on it. It seems like he was just sitting. Damn. He sighs loudly. "Fine, then. If you don't want the ultimate remedy to your problems…"

Is he talking about a bubble bath with him? If so, then I'm dreaming for sure.

My eyes crack open. I'm feeling a bit cranky, I'll admit. "What remedy?"

I feel new weights, much lighter than Link, bouncing on my mattress. Two objects have hit my side. One is a medium-sized box and the other is a tiny bottle. I sit up with a groan. Ouch. My feet feel raw. And my head… Ugh.

Link is looking down at me with some amusement and sympathy.

I take the bottle and examine it.

"Ultra-strong Green Potion…" My eyes widen. "Green Potion?" My gaze darts up to look into his smirking face. "You got me medication!"

Link shrugs. My eyes fall to the box. Oh my Din. A shoebox. With shaky fingers, I open it and look down at the most wonderful thing in the entire wide world: a pair of brand new fabric flip-flops. And cute ones, too. They actually fit my clothes.

"I assumed you wear the same size as Tetra," Link says.

I look up at him with the most grateful feeling. I think if I wasn't on the road to falling in love with him already, he just gave me a nudge in the right direction.

I don't know how long I look at him like this, but eventually he gets fidgety and says, "Um, don't get so emotional about this. It's just a bunch of headache pills and a pair of shoes."

"They're beautiful," I say, and Link looks unsure whether I'm referring to the pills or the shoes. Neither of us seeks to investigate. "Thank you so much."

"I heard you had trouble keeping track of what Kaepora Gaebora talks about," Link says, sitting in an armchair by the window, watching me as I try the shoes on and trying to change the subject. "He doesn't seem mad, though I do suggest you try to keep alert in his presence."

I grumble. Link shifts in the chair, then stands again, and takes the bottle of pills from where they lay beside me. He reads the instructions on the label then purses his lips. "They have to be mixed with water…" He leaves my room and enters my private bathroom.

I hear him turn on the faucets and pour a glass of water. Then, he comes back and reads again the label. "The pills have to dissolve in the water… Want to do it?" He asks, raising his eyes to look at me as I sit on my unmade bed in my rumpled travel clothes.

"I trust you," I say, trying not to move too much. This headache is going to kill me, and fast.

The pill Link drops into the glass of water makes plenty of volutes of a bright green colour. Both Link and I examine the rapidly dissolving green pill with sceptical awe. Eventually, he twirls the liquid inside the glass to mix it a final time then hands it to me with a doubting look. "If you feel death oncoming," he jokes, "tell me so I can call the newspaper obituaries."

"Right," I say, feeling too bad to appreciate his humour. "Wouldn't want to bother their deadline issues."

I down the bright green liquid as fast as possible. Predictably, it tastes completely awful. I make a grimace that could rival a monkey's. Link observes my disgust with careful fascination.

"What's it taste like?" He asks.

I look at his curious face, and for a moment, there's something that passes between us, like a connection and camaraderie that makes us grin. "Like crap in a roll of rotten grass."

Link's dark blonde eyebrow hitches high on his forehead. "I think you were a cow in another life. How else would you know how crap with rotten grass tastes like?"

"Easy," I say, trying to clear my mouth of the awful taste. "I had some of Anju's guacamole."

Link's face suddenly contorts in horrified disgust. "That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard. How could you do that to yourself?"

I shrug, laughing a bit. "I endured many hardships before becoming a princess, buddy."

"I wasn't imagining I'd be saving you from such turmoil when I knocked at your door," Link admits, looking gorgeous with his amused face on. "I hope you don't regret the awful food, at least. Give us some credit."

"Alright," I surrender, "the food is good. But there's more to it than just the food."

I yawn, and Link doesn't seem bothered to get a view of my vocal chords. He just frowns halfway. "Right. Still tired?"

I shrug, and yawn again. I can't help but feel amazingly drowsy right now. At least my headache is leaving me. Along with every other bodily sensation, that is.

Link holds up the pill bottle, and looks a bit alarmed. "Um… Zelda, fight it. Dinner's almost ready to be served. They're waiting for you."

I grumble. I don't know where the fatigue is coming from. But, apparently, Link does, since he stops me from lying back down and says, "Oh, hey, Zelda. I have bad news."

"What?" I ask, a bit confusedly.

"Warning: Green Potion pills cause drowsiness."

With that, he tugs me to my feet, and I manage to stumble with him downstairs. All the way, I'm cursing him and why can't he read the labels properly and how am I supposed to stay awake with such boring hosts?

It should come as no major surprise that I manage to stay awake for the majority of the dinner. I'm good, okay? But as Ezlo Picori enters the embassy dining room ―he is earlier than expected― I just can't hold out anymore.

In a picture perfect moment, I fall face-forward into my dessert in front of my hot publicist, my annoying ambassador and the elderly president of Minish. And I don't wake up for another twelve hours.

* * *

**There's chapter 10. Stick around for chapter 11, sometime this weekend, I suppose. And no, this isn't a cliffhanger. Next chapter will deal with day 15.**

**Nothing relevant to add... I think... You might be interested to read my latest blog entry, "About Only in Hyrule", for some additional notes regarding the making of this story.**

**Otherwise, leave a word or two. Reviews are always dearly welcome. Leave your impressions and depressions. Heck, PM me if you want. Your words always make my day.**

**Love,  
CM**


	11. Fugitive

**So _Only in Hyrule_ will soon pass the 200 reviews mark, thus breaking all my previous records. This, of course, causes me no end of glee. Though no one has expressed any concern regarding this matter, here's another confirmation: I _will_ finish this story. Because it's, like, my ultimate best work yet. Yes.**

**Dedication: To Scarlet, my uber cool friend, who has now earned the right to drink herself dead and vote. Felix et beatus, eh, Scarlet? Now keep a piece of the cake for me, because I'm your favourite loudmouth and stubborn mule of a friend. Also, you can't kill me safely anymore! You'd be judged as an adult, which is far too severe for something as flimsy as my murder. But _I _am safe until next month. So watch your windows at night... Consider yourself warned (again).**

**Note: This chapter is pivotal in a few interesting ways. You'll see quickly enough what I mean.**

**Important correction: I made a spelling mistake in my author's note in chapter 10. I wrote 'country of Hyrule, Termina, ...', when I meant to write 'countries of Hyrule, Termina, etc'. Though it's extremely minor, I didn't feel like exporting, modifying and reposting the chapter for that minor (and most likely unnoticed) mistake. So I make amends here.**

**Other note: Getting strung on _Naruto_ theme songs is not a good way to get important work done, but gawd, does it make me feel good.**

**That said and out of the way, please enjoy. :)**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Fugitive"**

That's it, I think. I'm out of here.

It's the fifteenth evening I spend in Marcastle. I came back yesterday from Minish, with two extremely amused politicians, who have not yet ceased to remind me the dessert episode, to my complete and utter humiliation.

On top of everything, I found out upon my return that all the negative rumours that have been and still are being spread around originate from one person: Veran Black, a nasty, witch-like bitch from Labrynna. She seems to have a personal vendetta against me, though I can't figure out why.

Anyway, somehow she has gotten wind of my cream-face moment in Minish, so today, it's all over the newspapers: 'Future Queen Has Sleep Disorder' or 'Sleeping Beauty: A Reality', and so on.

As a result, I have been unable to do anything productive because I haven't been able to stop crying in humiliation. Not even Kotake has managed to get me out of bed all day, and it's not that she hasn't tried everything. The day has gone by and I have refused to leave my room or listen to anyone. Some might say it's childish, but frankly I don't care.

I'm going back home. I've been waiting for everyone to just go back into their rooms to sleep, so that I can take my secretly prepared backpack and leave with the barest essentials.

By barest essentials, I mean everything that was mine since the beginning and that they haven't provided for me. I'm a coward, but I'm not a lousy crook. At least when they find out I'm gone, they won't want to arrest me for theft of public property or something. Maybe then they'll leave me alone.

I take out a small note that I wrote on one of the pages of my Fairy notebook, and I re-read it. It says the strict necessary. I can't pretend I'm good anymore. I can't do this to the people. I'm sorry. I wish I had been good enough. All these words that tug at my heart and make me feel extremely miserable.

I even wrote a separate note for Link, telling him that I couldn't bring myself to face him or tell him I couldn't manage.

That's right, I haven't told anyone. No one knows I'm leaving. I'll just vanish and nobody will find me again. Well, I'll have to find a secure place to stay other than Anju's house from now on, since it's the first place they'll think of looking at.

But that's a minor problem. My priority is to get out of this palace and leave Marcastle before morning.

That way, I won't have to see Link's disappointment when I tell him that I'm backing out. He'll find out on his own, tomorrow morning, on the last day of my decision period, and by that time I'll be on the speed train with my tiny savings, heading south to Lakeside.

I don't know how they'll tell the people. They'll probably improvise a terrible illness and find someone else to stop Ganondorf.

I won't blame them for being upset with me, but I can't do this. I can't pretend I know what I'm doing. I can't take the reins of a country without knowing what I'm doing. That would be unfair for the people. No one can force me to hurt the country like this. My disappearance will harm them less.

It's eleven at night. I hear Link enter his room next door. I wait, with my breath held in, feeling my heart pound as he moves around the room. I take my bag and move it next to the door, and I open my oiled door carefully, waiting to see if his lights are going to go out from under his door.

At eleven twenty, Link flicks his lights out.

With a relieved sigh, I grab my bag and shoulder it as silently as possible, then make my way down the hallway, thanking the fact that it's carpeted. It muffles my footfalls, and I make it to the stairs unnoticed.

I'm staring into the pitch darkness of the stairwell. My eyes look back at my gaping door and Link's shut one, and I think, with a bit of sadness, an apologetic farewell.

With that, I hurry down the steps as silently as possible. I know that not everyone in this palace will be asleep. I have to slip out as quietly and inconspicuously as I can, so that they don't sound the alarm until it's too late.

By some miracle, I reach the lobby without encountering anyone.

Because the echoing silence is so deep and deafening, I can't help but start a mile into the air when I hear a set of casual footsteps. They sound confident enough, and not at all careful about being quiet. Accordingly, an amused voice asks me, "Now, where do you think you're going?"

With incredible dread and extreme defeat, I prepare to be berated for trying to escape. I rack my brain for excuses, but then I make out Ralph Ambi, leaning against the doors of the Gold Ballroom. I can hardly see him in the obscurity, but I can't mistake his tone.

"Trying to head out for a night on the town?" Ralph asks, and I gulp down my fear as best as I can. His tone becomes leering, "Or something a bit more drastic?"

"Um, well…"

"I could see this coming miles away, what with the insecurity, the refusal to get involved into too many things…" He's way sharper than I'd given him credit for. Crud. "The hiding all day because of what is merely a bug on a windshield… You're running away." He pauses before asking, "Why didn't you ask your bodyguard to accompany you?"

I realise he's making a bit fun of me.

"Bodyguards call more attention," I say, a bit aggressively, I'll admit.

"Very true," Ralph admits with a nod, clearly unbothered by my tension. "Well, guess there's no helping it, then. I'm offering myself as an undercover bodyguard. You never know what might happen, and besides, I wouldn't forgive myself for leaving a pretty damsel alone in the big city."

"That's very kind of you," I assure him, wishing to throttle him for that sarcasm he keeps demonstrating, "but I promise I'll be just―"

"I _insist_," Ralph cuts in severely.

He moves so I can see his face better in the bluish night. His features are less cast in shadow than they used to be, and I see that they're pulled into a warning frown. That's when I realise he's not giving me a choice.

That's also how I end up half an hour later inside the VIP lounge of Grave Yard, Marcastle's hippest club, the one people kill to be a member of. And I don't even want to be here.

The Grave Yard lounge is a large loft with booming music, a packed dance floor, intimate tables, extremely cool lighting, a chic décor, sophisticated members, and the biggest drinks counter I have ever seen. Don't get me wrong. I've seen lots of bottles before: I used to work in Talon Ranch's place, after all.

Ralph leads me to the bar and says, "Have one on me."

I glance around, realising I have to find a subtle way of foxing and abandoning him. There are enough people that I could get lost in the crowd, though it's not said I could escape as easily. There are guards keeping tabs on everyone and everything. Plus, unfortunately for me, Ralph has been far less daft than I thought he'd be. He knows what I'm up to, and consequently, he's been keeping a tight eye on me for the past half hour.

"A Shaker with crushed ice," I say to the bartender, to humour my abductor. But then I turn to Ralph and ask, "Look, this is stupid, what exactly do you want?"

Ralph is already sipping his own drink, looking at me with mild detachment. "You're chickening out," he says.

I roll my eyes and focus on the Shaker that the bartender just presented me with. The colour is still as beautiful, and it's soothing my frazzled nerves. "You said yourself that it's not surprising. So why?"

Ralph shrugs. "I just think it's a pity and I wanted to give you a farewell party." He raises his glass. It's a dark blue colour. Toasting me in silence, he drinks it carefully, deliberately. His bright green eyes haven't left my face, and some of his reddish brown hair is falling into them. I'll admit having a kind of cute guy looking at me so intently contributes to making me feel warm.

He puts his drink on the counter slowly then asks, "You thinking of anywhere to go? They'll be looking for you."

Don't give him openings. Even maniacs can be cute.

"Not really." I try my Shaker. It's yummy and icy cold.

"Not really?" Ralph grins handsomely. "That's reassuring."

"It's none of your business."

Ralph doesn't look offended by my acidic tone. Casually, he says, leaning against the counter and surveying the room, with his drink held loosely in his hand, "I'm just concerned, that's all." He sounds honest enough. "To be quite frank, I think the only one who thinks you can't do it is yourself. Everyone else seems to have faith."

"Everyone else," I grumble, "needs me to keep someone from getting the spot. I'm not all special. Other people could do the job better than me."

Ralph shrugs. "I'm afraid I can't agree with that statement." He takes another relaxed sip of his dark blue drink.

"I don't care." I almost slam my drink on the counter and ask, harshly, "Can I go now?"

Ralph examines me, ignoring my obvious rancour. Then, casually, he says, "Not until you've spared me a dance. I never have time for fun back home. I've been missing good old Hyrulian parties." He downs his whole drink then offers me his arm.

I look at the dance floor, where people are gyrating and apparently having a great time. Most of them look drunk and sweaty. And I look back at Ralph's good-looking face, and his laid-back, rather harmless looking stance, and I think, oh, fuck this.

Reluctantly, I accept his offer, and he looks glad enough to be able to lead me to the dance floor. He's too… Well, he's not for me, I think. He doesn't seem to acknowledge or appreciate much of what I say. He's cute, and he's got a style, but I can't imagine him as a boyfriend.

That's why I don't stray too close to him on the dance floor. He seems to respect it. He just keeps off all the other guys who, in their drunken stupor, seem to think of me as a big fondling toy. I guess that's one thing to be grateful for, at least.

We dance a couple of songs. It's bit awkward, I'll say, considering that he foiled my escape plans, and that he's a Lord of Labrynna and that I could have been queen of Hyrule and we're basically dancing in a club where the elite of society gathers and at the moment, the elite of society is getting grinded by the rest of the elite of society and…

A hand suddenly grabs my sleeve, and I whirl to stare open-mouthed at Aryll Forester, who clearly has had more drinks than me. She's flushed and way happier than me, too.

"Zelda?" She asks in a slur. Wow, how many drinks has she had, anyway? "Ish that you? Oh my Din, what are you doing here?"

"Aryll," I exclaim, grabbing her arms to keep her steady and to keep her from falling off her feet. "What the heck are you doing here?"

Aryll just smiles a bit, happy grin. "Living it up! Back home in Waker Islands, parties aren't nearly thish fun."

"Goddesses, Aryll," I exclaim as I pull her off the dance floor and towards the bar, under Ralph Ambi's amused stare. "You're not allowed to be here," I hiss at her, separating every syllable in faint hope that it might get through to her. "You're underage!" I say, as low as possible over the steady beat of the music.

Aryll waves it off carelessly, then takes notice of Ralph, who is casually picking his way towards us. "Oh my Nayru, Zellie, who ish that hunk with you?"

I turn and see Ralph, having clearly overheard the whole thing, raising his brow to look at my panic with visible entertainment. Bastard.

"That's just Ralph." I say, turning back to Aryll, who is swaying a bit alarmingly. But she seems to be having fun. "Aryll, does your brother know you're here?"

She squints at me. "Link? Like heck. He doesn't want me to have fun."

I try to keep her from returning to the dance floor where a drunkard could very possibly molest her. "He doesn't want you to get arrested for underage drinking ―and he's right!"

Aryll rolls her eyes, swaying again. This time, she sways so far that Ralph has to extend a hand and keep her from falling to the floor. She looks up at him with drunken gratitude. "Oh, thank you," she slurs prettily.

"My pleasure," Ralph assures her, though he really seems to find it more entertaining than pleasurable. He looks up at me with twinkling green eyes, and he's clearly enjoying the view of me fussing over the little sister of my ex-publicist.

"Sho what are you chelebrating anyway?" Aryll asks, holding onto Ralph's arm for support. She has clearly begun to realise that her legs aren't supposed to act like rubber. Still, it doesn't seem to alarm her very much.

"I'm not celebrating anything. Call your brother and go straight home."

Aryll looks a bit annoyed and begins to whine. "Zellie, you're shuch a party pooper."

She has no idea. Clearly, the irony of this statement makes Ralph look up from Aryll's slight form to smirk at me. I ignore him. I know I should be escaping, but I can't just leave Aryll here! Who knows what could happen?

"Aryll, if you don't call your brother immediately…"

"I get it, I get it." She reaches inside her handbag for her cell phone. Her drunken smile has turned to heavy disappointment. She squints back at me as she waits for her cell phone to flicker on. "Hey, where's Darunia anyway? The guy my brother hired to protect you from Ganondorf?"

I blink at her. The guy Link hired to… Hold on there. "What do you mean?"

Aryll looks surprised that I have no clue what she's talking about. She's slowly dialling Link's number. "You don't know? I told him about what Ganondorf Dragmire almosht did to you in the Gold Ballroom and I had to convinche him not to go and murder Ganondorf." She shrugs and brings the phone to her ear. "So inshtead he hired Darunia."

I stare at her as she walks away to a quieter spot in order to hear the other side of the line. Ralph comes to stand beside me. "Day of revelations?" He suggests, extremely amused.

"Oh, shut up," I groan, shaking my head and walking to a stool by the bar. Ralph follows casually.

"What exactly did Dragmire almost do to you?" He asks, carefully, leaning next to me.

I raise my shoulders and let them fall. "Threatened me. When I told him my way of thinking, he tried to strangle me."

Ralph looks suitably serious now. "So Forester hired a bodyguard for you."

I rub my forehead. "It would seem like it. I thought I got a bodyguard as part of the queen deal. Not as a reaction to Ganondorf."

Ralph smirks to himself. "Yeah, well. Forester isn't the type to let things happen. He usually tries to make for a change."

I think back to the pair of flip-flops, and the Green Potion pills… And the resulting dessert incident. No, don't think about that again, Zelda.

Still, it is true Link has done plenty of small things to help me out. And technically, the results were an improvement over my previous situation. I mean, Ezlo and Kaepora hadn't exactly been upset…

No, I can't think like that. I'm escaping. I'm trying to get away from him as fast as possible because I'm a coward.

I sigh, a bit depressed, when Aryll comes up next to me again. She looks a bit sullen. I stare at her curiously. She is currently ordering another drink.

"Um, Aryll…" Why isn't she heading home now?

She shoots me a disappointed frown. "Oh, come on. It's my lasht drink."

"No," I say. "I mean, shouldn't you be leaving, rather?"

Aryll sighs, taking a happy sip of her bright pink cocktail. "I will. But Link doesn't want me driving so he's coming to fetch me." She scowls comically, though my heart has just passed through my throat. "He didn't shound very happy. I think I woke him up. He's driving over as we shpeak."

Crap. Link is headed this way. That means he saw my open door, that means he knows what I'm doing, that means…

Oh Farore. I have to get away. Now.

Ralph notices my panic. He puts a hand to my arm, but I slap it away. I glare at him warningly. In response, he just raises his hands innocently. He says, "I just meant to say you can take my car to the station, if you want."

Aryll stares at us both without understanding much. "Um… Shtation?" She turns to look at me. "You're going shomewhere?"

I try to laugh her question off as best as I can. "He meant palace. I'm heading back too."

Aryll blinks. "Then hitch a ride from Link, like me."

Okay, there's no getting rid of inquiring teens. I say, "Um, that's a great idea. Do excuse me."

Forget the car and my luggage. I'm just going to run and catch a taxi. I make for the restrooms, but then I hurry out the door and down the stairs, feeling my heart leap and my stomach contract in panic. It's like sheer terror is making me stumble down the stairs of the Grave Yard, and I almost trip and fall five times.

I have never been this terrified in my life.

I burst out into the street and look up and down, trying to find a taxi. Screw my luggage, it's in Ralph's trunk, and I'll just have to deal without it. Once I'm home, I'll have him send it.

No car slows down for me. Inevitably, taxis don't roam around at one in the morning.

I'm breathless. I have to get out of sight, I have to leave town before Link calls an alert on me. I wouldn't put it past him.

Oh my Din, I panic, wishing death on Ralph. If he hadn't taken me here, I'd already be gone and…

A taxi? I run to the edge of the sidewalk, and outstretch my hand, blinded by the brightness of the headlights. But the taxi doesn't slow down. It just speeds on its way. I feel like screaming insults at it, like running and begging to be taken away from this place. Link could be arriving at any time now…

I consider just running away and trying on another corner, so that at least Link won't see me here, in front of the Grave.

A new set of headlights comes over to my sidewalk, and I turn my head, ready to thank the kindly taxi driver who has finally stopped to aid me…

The car fires down. A bit late I realise with impossible dread…

This is no taxi. The driver steps out and my heart freezes, right there, in my throat, and I feel despair flow through me.

Times seems to freeze. Link slams his door shut and gives me the harshest stare I have ever seen him use. We're silent for what must be a few seconds but seems like an eternity. A bit late, I feel that my eyes have been tearing, and a salty tear touches my lips.

I try to wipe my eyes, but I just feel like sobbing in shame and fear.

Link seems to notice this, but doesn't look awfully saddened by it. He walks around the front of his car and comes to stand in front of me. I flinch.

This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. This is exactly why I had to run away.

"So," Link says, looking down at me with slowly increasing sadness, "this is your answer."

"I can't do it," I whimper, feeling incredible shame for letting him down so awfully.

Link hands me a paper. It's the note I left for him. My fingers tremble as I take it from him. I look up at him uncertainly. I notice his gaze has softened to gentle sorrow.

He says, "I never lied to you. I think you still have the potential to become the best queen in the world."

I can see that he means it, too.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Don't be."

"You must hate me, now."

Link smiles, softly, with that tinge of sadness. "It takes more than that to make me hate people." He looks down at me, still as handsome as ever. "Though I'll have to say it's a bit more painful than being elbowed in the jaw."

I feel miserable for sure, now.

"You can find someone else who'll be better than me," I say, tentatively.

Link doesn't even go down that track. He looks up at the Grave Yard building, with the bright lights in the lounge at the top. He asks, "Why were you here?"

With resentment, I say, "Ralph Ambi dragged me here. He didn't give me a choice."

Link says nothing about my abduction. "He's still up there?"

I nod. "Um, yes. He's keeping an eye on Aryll, I guess."

Link's already sombre expression darkens suddenly. "I can't believe she went ahead and…" He shakes his head, both annoyed and incredulous. Then, he looks at me, and says, "On the phone, she told me you had commanded her to call me and head home." He looks cautiously curious. "… Why?"

I blink up at him. Is he seriously asking me this?

"Well, I know you don't like the idea of her clubbing," I say, slowly, "I couldn't just stand by and see her get thrashed like that."

"But it prevented your… escape." He motions vaguely.

I avert my eyes. "Just because I'm a coward doesn't mean I don't care!" I huff. "I don't have to be queen to be a good person! I worry for her just like anyone decent!"

Link grabs my shoulders. He stares straight into my eyes. It's almost unbearable but I try to sustain his gaze. "Tell me: how can a person with such a defined heart not be a good queen?"

I can't believe he's still trying. I shake him off. "I'm not strong enough. I'm not gutsy enough. I'm just…" I make motions with my hands, feeling extremely frustrated that he won't just let me be, "I'm just a wisecrack!" I don't know exactly what I'm trying to demonstrate, but Ganondorf Dragmire's words have definitely been weighing on me.

Link looks as irritated as I feel. "You were strong and gutsy enough to leave us. You'd have succeeded, too, if you didn't have such a big caring heart." He's clearly trying to drive something into my head. "Don't you see? _You have what it takes to become a queen_, you fool."

"Prove it," I dare him, feeling frustrated.

Link looks exasperated. I can see that he's insistent when he says, "You're a natural. You're always so panicked about doing something wrong that you force yourself beyond measure to succeed."

"But I fail anyways," I say, bitterly.

"You didn't fail!" Link exclaims, grabbing my arms and giving me a shake. "Don't you understand? The facts are there: you're so human that the people love you without reason. But you're hardly satisfied with that: you give them something different, something new. Within a few days, they've already dubbed you 'Princess' Zelda. I even spent the whole day with Gonzo filling up an office with countless flower arrangements and letters addressed to you!"

Whoa. New info.

"What?" I ask, incredulously.

Link sighs. "You were too busy hiding in your room to notice. Oh, and I almost forgot. I wanted to give these to you, but you had locked yourself in, so I couldn't hand them over. Here."

He takes two sheets of folded paper from his pocket and gives them to me. I try to read in the city lights.

"The first is from the Youth Group you spoke to." Link explains. "Saria has been meaning to invite you to their meeting next month." Shit. I remember about Saria. I'm their spokesperson! Farore, how do I back out of this one?

"And the next one," Link says, "is from your friends in Lakeside. Malon, Anju and Ruto, I believe their names are." My heart leaps. Link scratches the back of his neck. "They were planning on coming to visit you in two days. Said they adored your press conference and that all of Lakeside was rooting for you."

I stare up at Link. "You've been reading my mail?" I say this to hide the sudden feeling that's growing inside of me. It's like a sense of duty mixed with something else.

He sends me a sarcastic look. "No, I've been chewing it."

I'm silent for a long, long moment. I don't know why, but it's like the solution to all my problems is right in front of me and I can't see it.

Until Link says, tentatively and with clear discomfort, "To be quite honest…" I look up at him. "The reason I don't want you to go is that… I want _you_ to be the queen." Seeing my surprise, he shifts from one foot to the other. "I know this sounds like I'm insistent, but the fact is…" He looks impossibly sincere now. "I can't imagine another person in your place, Zelda."

That's when I realise that, actually…

I can't either.

There's a long silence. Something inside falls into place. Maybe it's my heart that just dropped back into its natural cavity. Because then, I look at Link and I understand him perfectly.

Duty, I think. Duty mixed with a love of something greater than duty.

I break the silence with a sigh, causing Link's face to break into a true, heartfelt grin, one I haven't seen on his professional face in a long time, and I say, "Let's get Aryll home."

* * *

**That was chapter 11. Hope you enjoyed. :) **

**I liked Ralph in this chapter. He'll be returning, actually.**

**Also, I mentioned Veran at the beginning of the chapter. She's the evil sorceress from the _Oracle of Ages_ game. I know a lot of characters from OoA are popping up without many from OoS, but be patient.**

**I have nothing left to say... So leave a review. x)**

**Love,  
CM**


	12. Novice

**Hey, chapter 12. I've been slacking in the releases department lately, but school work's been eating at my free time. Expect chapter 13 sometime this weekend, I suppose.**

**Note: Exceptionally enough, this chapter deals with the _morning_ of Day 16, whereas the afternoon will be covered in chapter 13. Not of major importance, but still worthy of mention.**

**Sheik fans are sure to enjoy this chapter. In comparison with the other chapters, this one is considerably lighter in mood. Sure, the drama in the rest of the story wasn't exactly tragic, but plot development isn't exactly the focus for this chapter. Just consider it an insight into other points of view.**

**That said, have fun!**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Novice"**

"I heard about your little excursion last night," Sheik says. He's looking up at me as he holds the reins to my horse. I'm currently sitting atop the Royal Mare's saddle.

The Royal Mare, as Sheik and I refer to her, is actually a mixed-breed horse that answers to the name of Epona. She's a seven year-old creature, with a red-brown coat and a white spot down her nose. I know that she's not a pure-breed, but I don't care. She's gentle and patient, and those are two very appreciated qualities where I'm concerned.

The basic idea of this course, I found out, is to make me ride side-saddle, for elegance, and to practice my back posture, which, if you ask me, is just another way for me to suffer. I'm lazy, after all. They're asking so much of me.

Plus, you don't realise how big a horse is until you're standing next to it, wondering how to climb onto its back. It took me a whole hour this morning just to get the hang of climbing into the saddle ―with grace, please― without falling off the other side.

Sheik sniffs, leading Epona around the track. "When Link found out you were gone, he ran into my room, almost strangling me to wake me up. He was furious, and he was saying all this gibberish about his sister, alcohol, underage, and he was waving around a letter and saying that you were sorry, and he was really pissed. Frankly, I didn't understand a word of what he said. Then, he left my room as fast as he came in, and I figured it was just a phase, so I went back to sleep."

The idea of Link getting upset and angry about my departure is enough to make me both warm and chilled. Warm because it's a compliment to know I can affect that blonde hunk, and chilly because I saw his cold glare and I don't want to ever see it again.

"Can we _not_ discuss this?" I ask, in mild embarrassment.

Sheik, predictably, ignores this request. "I wonder what made you come back."

I sigh. I know it's because of Link's voice and the way he was looking at me. Also, the fact that I actually ―sort of― like my new life helped him out. That, and I knew I couldn't reach home in time to tell the girls not to leave Lakeside to visit me.

"I don't know. Just a feeling."

"A good feeling, then," Sheik concludes. "When I came in the kitchen to eat my breakfast this morning, Link was actually in a good mood. And he hadn't even gotten his morning coffee yet. That's how I heard about last night. I've never seen him like this before about one of his jobs. He looked almost…" I see Sheik shudder comically. "_Happy_."

Oh my. That's actually quite flattering, for Sheik.

"Oh, that's awful," I say, matching his horror-filled voice with a joke of my own. "Stop it. I'm going to have nightmares."

"Alright," Sheik says, flatly, "I confess. I exaggerated. Not happy. Link doesn't do happy. But it was still a bit disgusting."

I laugh a bit, but frankly, this conversation makes me seriously wonder what made me come back.

"I think," Sheik says, somehow guessing in what direction my thoughts are headed, "that you knew all along and that you simply lacked the confidence to see that you're the best for the spot."

"I'm still not convinced," I remind him. "But I figure I can at least work hard to become good enough."

Sheik makes Epona stop, to practice my grace, then starts again. He looks up at me carefully; his reddish-brown eyes aren't letting his thoughts shine through. Then, he smiles. He rarely does. He's more of a dry wit, so it's unusual to see him grin like this. "That's all we needed."

I smile down at him. I kinda like Sheik. He's quiet, but his humour is a real treat. Plus, he's great with horses. Malon would love him. I lean forward and ask him, a bit slyly, "Say, do you like redheads, or do you prefer brunettes?"

He looks up at me and blinks. His blonde hair falls into his eyes again. He brushes it aside. "That's confidential. Why do you ask?"

I shrug, grinning. "I'm trying to extract information from you. Maybe I should just ask Link instead."

Sheik snorts. "If I say it's confidential, it's likely Link doesn't know it either, don't you think?" He squints at me, urging Epona on a quick pace. "Besides, aren't you blonde?"

I laugh. "I'm not asking for me."

Sheik sounds casually suspicious. "Oh, it has to do with those friends of yours. The ones who're coming in tomorrow." He wags a finger up at me, tisking like an old granny. "You should know better than making it so obvious."

I shrug. "Maybe, and maybe not. Besides, if you already have someone…" I let the sentence hang. I'm enjoying this conversation. Plus, Epona's really smooth moving. It's a pleasant morning ride, in spite of the being lazy thing.

Sheik looks up at me, breaking into an incredulous smile, "You're shameless." He shakes his head. "Stop prying."

"Oh, come on. Humour me. Redhead or brunette?"

Sheik rolls his eyes. "Is this a trick question?"

I try to look serious, and I ask, in a deep voice, "You must choose. If you were stuck on a desert island, for instance."

"Who cares for the hair colour," Sheik finally concedes, "if they have a nice face?"

"Oh," I coo laughingly, "that's so romantic. You're so open-minded."

Sheik sends me a mocking glare. "Well, I know for a fact you've got a thing for blue-eyed blondes yourself, and if you're not careful with your interrogation, I might just reveal it to the world."

I bring a hand up to my heart daintily. "Such threats." I lean forward. "How did you come by such an interesting conclusion anyway?"

Sheik stops Epona. Then, he offers me his hand to help me down. "I don't think you'd have come back if _he_ hadn't been the one to fetch you." He raises a brow when I hop down.

I examine his insinuating reddish eyes, and then I scoff. "That's ridiculous."

"Not that ridiculous," Sheik says, following me as I head towards the end of the track. He's guiding Epona and trying to keep up with me. But I won't let him catch up. This conversation is headed into dangerous waters. "Come on, admit it. You've got the hots for him."

Yeah, like any straight, normal girl. I whirl around and shake my head. "Oh, please. He's attractive, but nothing more."

Sheik looks very amused. "Stop kidding me. If he's nothing more, why are you trying to escape this conversation? You're freaked out."

I roll my eyes and slow down, to prove that I'm not trying to evade him. Which is a complete lie: I wish only to run as fast as my legs can take me. "I'm not freaked out. You're making this out bigger than it really is."

"Okay, then," Sheik challenges, "then what's this feeling that brought you back? Not a love of greater good, I'm sure."

"Sense of duty," I admit honestly. "I'm too far into this to back out."

"I think you're just too nice," Sheik says, but before I can ask him to elaborate, we reach the stables and I notice that Tetra is waiting for us there. She looks a bit impatient.

"Uh-oh for you," Sheik comments a bit amusedly, hurrying to enter the stables before Tetra can get a hold of him.

"Bastard," I mutter, making him laugh. Tetra reaches my side.

As always, she looks great. It's kinda depressing, since I can't possibly look that good at the moment. I've just returned from a tiring riding session, and my hair is a mess, and my clothes have plenty of dust all over them. It sucks that she's always so put-together. It makes me look like I'm just there to emphasize how perfect she looks.

"Alright, Zelda. Now what have you and Ralph Ambi been up to?" She asks. "I heard from Link that you both went to the Grave Yard lounge last night and that you found Aryll. Now, I don't mind that you want to experience the night life," she assures me, though I feel like protesting, "but would it have hurt you to warn us in advance? Also, you're lucky no one found out you were in company of a minor. Because then, goodbye reputation."

"Ralph," I say, automatically when she finally gives me the chance. "He's the one who abducted me. It's because of him that I actually found Aryll yesterday night."

"Abducted?" Tetra repeats, a bit incredulously.

I nod. "Yeah." I see her face grow a bit dark and menacing, so I hurry to add, "But we're okay now. Really."

Tetra leans towards me and says, insidiously, "You're not implying that there's something bigger going on between you and Ralph, are you?"

I can't help my jaw from falling. "What?" I know my face is going red. It always does when someone believes I'm involved with someone on the cute side. "No!"

Because of the blush, Tetra is obviously not convinced. "Why are you all red?" I don't know why she's so suspicious of me. I mean, even if I _were_ involved with Ralph, what would it change? It's not like she's my publicist or anything. My reputation isn't really her concern. She's mostly a part-time press attaché, and even then…

"Look," I tell her, "I'm not involved with Ralph. He's too weird."

"Too weird," she repeats flatly. "Well, it's just as well, since we don't want you to get cosy with just anyone."

Um, wait. Isn't Ralph Ambi a lord from Labrynna? I mention this to her. She rolls her eyes.

"I've got nothing against Ralph, personally," she says, but then she grins and winks. "I think it might worry someone else, that's all."

With that, she turns on her heel and heads back towards the palace.

Um. What?

Sheik comes back outside from within the stables and raises a brow. He probably handed Epona's reins to a stable hand and overheard the whole conversation, since he asks, "Ralph Ambi? Link failed to mention that. Then again, for some reason he can't get along well with Ralph lately." He sounds a bit teasing now. "Maybe it's because you've been naughty with a green-eyed dark redhead?"

"I thought you said I liked blondes?" I say this because I certainly don't want to give Sheik any more ammunition.

"Just asking," Sheik shrugs. "Maybe you're like me. No discrimination."

"For your information," I say, walking with him casually back to the palace gardens, "I have not been 'naughty' with Ralph Ambi. He prevented me from escaping last night, and took me to the Grave Yard. A bit forcedly, I'll admit."

"I see. Well, you might want to thank him for it, then."

I grimace. "Thank him for what? Foiling my original plans?"

Sheik shrugs. "I guess so. Without him, we'd all be in big trouble."

I fall silent. In a way, he's got a point. It's tough to admit, but frankly, I am sort of grateful that Ralph stopped me after all. I don't know where I'd be today if he hadn't stopped me last night. And my friends would have travelled all the way here to find out that the possible future queen of Hyrule had vanished… In a way, I do have Ralph to thank for stopping the chaos that was sure to have arisen.

Damn it all, Sheik's right. That's one of the things about him. You think you're in control of the conversation, and then he flips it around and holds it to your throat. He's like a vocal ninja.

"I'm just saying," he says to my silence. "I happen to know exactly what might make Ralph Ambi the gladdest man in the country."

"If you're about to be lewd," I speak up warningly, "you might as well quit now."

"Oh, it's nothing like that," Sheik says. I realise he's extremely amused at the moment. "Actually, I came across this knowledge rather by accident. Very few know about it." He knows he's luring me with the gossip. I can't help it. I'm listening. "It's a little known fact that Ralph Ambi has had a crush on Nayru Ages for the longest time. He'd probably kill to get her autograph."

I laugh. "Yeah, that's funny, Sheik. There's just a little problem." I stop and look at him blankly, wondering why everyone seems so forgetful today. "She's a star and I'm not."

"Wrong again," Sheik corrects me. He flicks my forehead with his index. "Remember? You're about to become queen. You can do almost anything." He leans forward conspiratorially, and says, "Besides, there's been planning of a magazine special for you with Nayru Ages, Din Seasons and Farore Secret. I think it's next week," he adds, lightly.

I blink at him. A magazine special with the three most beloved artists in the Hylian Alliance? I can't help but laugh. "Nice one. I almost believed you there, for a moment."

"I'm not kidding." I can see in his face that he's not. "It's a rather daring publicity stunt, if you ask me. Once the world sees how cool you can be next to the pop icons of this century, it'll be a matter of time before you get chosen for the throne."

"How lovely," I say, but frankly, this new information is terrifying news. "And, tell me, Sheik. How am I supposed to be level with the three most beautiful women in the Hylian Alliance, all of whom bear the very names of the Holy Goddesses? _Hm_?"

What kind of screwball thought of a stunt like that anyway? I bet Link thought it'd be a great laugh.

Sheik rolls his eyes. "Will you stop with the anxiety thing? You're as good-looking as any model."

And _that's_ probably how Link sold his idea to the other laughing people of his firm.

"Yes," I say, sarcastically. "Is there any other event I should be warned about? One in which I might humiliate myself even further, I mean?"

"Well," Sheik says as we stroll in the palace gardens, "I certainly hope you can sing decently in front of a crowd."

I stare at him and freeze in my tracks. "What?"

He looks at me, as he slows down. He's examining me. "Sorry, I had to do the joke."

I heave a relieved sigh. "Thank goodness. I really thought I was going to have to do something stupid like record an album or something equally insignificant."

Sheik shrugs. He doesn't exactly look like he found his joke funny. Something fishy is going on… I just can't put my finger on what.

I'm not sure that's reassuring, if you see what I mean.

Why is it that everyone keeps hinting at all sorts of stuff and I'm left to wonder and decipher whatever they throw at me? It's annoying and stressful. I should have a talk about this with Link.

Except that Link is busy in his office with Mako, discussing guest lists or something and minding Aryll, who woke up this morning with what she claims is a volcano sized hangover, something that Darunia has been chuckling about for most of the past hours. So I can't discuss it with Link, since I'd end up discussing it in front of everyone else, and that's not what I want. I'm not trying to make a scene. I just want updates on what they've got in store for me.

It would have been nice, after all, to know about any type of magazine ad with any type of model, let alone the Godly Trio. For mental preparation and all.

It's like they're trying to avoid giving me too much information because they think I might implode from the pressure. Which is stupid. I'm stronger than that. Right?

Do they think I'm retarded, or child-like, to the extent that I can't handle too much information? I don't want to just be a figurehead. I want to be more than a puppet. But how can I become more than their little rag doll if they won't tell me what's going on?

I'm not going to back out anymore, I've already decided. I can't and won't try to escape or shirk my duties. If they all want me in this thing so much, they're either completely insane or completely convinced that I can do it. Since Link doesn't seem crackers in my opinion ―and so what if I'm biased, ― I'll assume it's the latter option, and that means that I could afford to try my hand at ruling a country.

How many girls get that opportunity anyway? Realistically, I'm the only one of my generation.

Which doesn't mean that I should be treated like a moron. I don't think so, at least.

"I'll have to leave you, now," Sheik says once we reach the palace back. "Tetra wanted me to keep an eye on her assistants. And you know how that works."

I nod, even though I don't know how that works. Well, it's not like it matters much anyway.

"Link asked me to tell you that he wanted to speak with you. He's in his office."

Whoa. That has me going. I leave Sheik to his fate ―or whatever― and I hurry inside the palace. I'm beginning to know a part of it well, now. I hurry up the stairs and towards Link's room, which doubles as his office, which means he sleeps in his office, which kinda creeps me out. But whatever, he's hot, so he can do whatever the heck he wants.

Right before I enter, I make sure to check that I'm not too breathless. Even though Sheik has sworn to get me into shape, I'm a lazy person at heart. Plus, the thought of entering Link's bedroom ―or office, whatever― infallibly makes me breathless.

Maybe Sheik has a point about blue-eyed blondes, but…

I'm about to knock on the door panel when it swings open. I stare down at Mako, who looks up at me and pushes his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose. He takes notice of me with a squint ―I think maybe his glasses aren't the right prescription, but it's none of my business― then turns back and says, "Hey, Link. She's here."

I hear someone shifting inside the room, and then Link steps into view.

I've mentioned already how great he looks. This morning, he's wearing faded black jeans ―yummy! ― with a plain button-down work shirt. I even get a glimpse of his mildly tanned throat and collarbone, which, suffice it to say, makes me wonder what other great sights are hidden beyond that shirt.

Oh, Din. It's like I'm a vampire or something. Admiring his collarbone? What kind of freak am I?

Though it's a very sexy collarbone. With taut, pale brown skin and a steady pulse and―

"There you are," he smiles. Okay, swoon time. Again.

"Yep," I say, because if there's one effective thing I've learned in Link's company, it's that lecherous thoughts are best kept for oneself. "I'm here. Sheik said you wanted to see me."

Link nods sagely. "Sheik is ever knowing. Come right in." He steps aside and gallantly, if teasingly, invites me inside.

Mako has vanished. I ask Link where he is. He shrugs. "I sent him for a little errand. He should be back soon."

So I'm alone with Link, in his room, with no one else but―

"Hey, Zelda," a voice croaks, "how come you don't have a killer headache?"

No one else but… Aryll?

I turn to her. She's lying on Link's bedspread, like a wounded princess, holding a cold compress to her forehead. She looks bleary-eyed and tired. I do not envy her at all.

"She doesn't have a headache," Link answers in my stead, in the tone of reprimand, "because she had the sense not to get blind stinking drunk."

Aryll cringes, holding a hand to her temple. "Aw, Link, do you really have to call the Temple choir to say that? It hurts my head."

Link rolls his eyes and steers me towards his desk, on which a mess of paperwork has been spread. But he doesn't seem to acknowledge it. He offers me his chair, but I refuse it. I'm tired, but I won't sit if he has nowhere to do the same.

"Have a decent night's sleep this morning?" He asks me, a bit sardonically, I surmise. He's a bit of a bastard, when he wants to.

"It was dandy," I assure him with a broad, sarcastic grin.

"Wonderful," he comments, then changes the subject to, "I have to cover two things with you before you go down to lunch. One, this afternoon, you're getting your first lesson with Impa Shades, and I'm telling you right now that she's going to try to break you. If you show her you're stronger than that, you've got a good start."

I try not to let my mouth gape. "Um. Thank you."

He looks amused that I'm still unsure. How nice of him. "More seriously," he says, "Impa doesn't take slackers lightly. It's best that you do your best, take plenty of notes, and make sure to look confident in your obedience."

"How can I look confident in my obedience?" I ask him, because it seems like a logical question. I mean… Really?

Aryll, from where she's lying, laughs to herself weakly. "Pretend that you're in an intense session of―"

"Shut up, Aryll, or your headache might worsen accidentally," Link says, his voice dripping with warning. I have the feeling he just prevented Aryll from making a dirty comment. How thoughtful of him.

"Oh, come on, big brother," Aryll whines, but I sense her good-humoured taunt, "it's not like you haven't thought of it yourself. You're not that mysterious, you know."

Link looks on the verge of strangling his dearest sister. I'm assuming this sort of thing occurs often in the Forester family, and so I only look up at him, wondering what the heck Aryll is talking about.

"Do excuse me," Link politely says then turns on his heel to stride towards his sister, who, upon seeing his approach, has grown steadily more panicked.

"Link, have mercy. Please. I beg you. I was just kidding―" She breaks off into a shriek as Link hauls her over his shoulder and heads towards his couch, where he dumps her inelegantly.

Dusting his hands off when Aryll loudly complains of her hangover, he strides back towards me and says, "Just do as Impa says, but don't lose any dignity or grace as you do so. You're her student, but are as mature as her."

"That's a compliment?" I ask, cautiously.

He laughs. "I guess. Number two of today's subjects," he continues, blatantly ignoring Aryll's complaints as she drags herself back to the bed, looking like a war veteran that lost the use of her legs, "tomorrow your friends are coming to Marcastle. Incidentally, I thought tomorrow would be a great time for a Basics course. If you promise to focus on the guard review the day after, that is," he raises his brows at me meaningfully, "I took the liberty of inviting your friends over to the palace for the day."

I stare at him in awe ―and mild adoration, which hopefully he won't have noticed. "You… Really?"

"Yes, really," he chuckles at my expression. "What, did you think I forgot about your sanity? Clearly, you're in need of Basics, and fast."

"What're Basics?" Aryll asks, having returned to the comfy bedspread and sounding like a train hit her. "Doesn't she already know the basics?"

"She doesn't," Link assures her. It's like their wrestling match a minute earlier hasn't registered in their logbook. "But we'll have to make it a regular course if we want Zelda to stick around, won't we?" He sends me a wink.

I glare at him, but there's no doubt about it: he knows how to get me to stay. He's only too ready to provide a reason. Needless to say, I love having my publicist strive to entertain me. It's a great feeling that makes me all fuzzy.

And that's without the fact that he's gorgeous, which just makes it even better.

"Ooh," Aryll suddenly chimes, "my brother just winked at the future queen. Scandal."

Link averts his gaze from me to look at his sister. "You know that I do not suffer from any form of headache, right? And that you are too much of a wimp to keep me from throwing you out into the hallway?"

"What?" Aryll responds, managing a teasing sarcasm, by what seems an impressive effort, "So you could have the bed all for yourself and Zellie?"

Whoa. I think my face just melted.

"That's it. Find someone else to leech off of." Link strides back towards his rapidly panicking sister, who has begun to screech her head off with cries for help.

That's how Darunia finds the scene when he suddenly steps in. He looks between Link, a screaming Aryll, and my very red face, then sighs and grins. "I was wondering what all the ruckus was about. But by all means, manage your sister and her hangover in a way that keeps us all sane, bro."

"Traitor!" Aryll exclaims, trying to keep from laughing at the tickles her brother is making her endure. "You have no sympathy! Stop that!" She adds, for her sibling's benefit.

Darunia turns to me. "Dinner's ready, by the way." He frowns suspiciously. "You okay?"

I shake my head clear of erring thoughts and smile. "I'm fine. Yes. Let's go." And I follow him out the door, leaving Aryll to suffer her brother's wrath.

* * *

**Perhaps it's just me, but the idea of drunk Aryll is very entertaining. Especially since she has a lot less inhibitions than her far more mature (and way too professional) brother. Plus, sibling banter is always fun to write.**

**Although mentioned in passing for now, Din Seasons, Nayru Ages and Farore Secret are the three oracles from the Oracle of Ages/Seasons games.**

**Next up will be a lesson with Impa. Fear the wrath of it all!**

**Leave a word, okay?**

**Love,  
CM**


	13. Student

**Chapter 13, everyone. Joy. ****Nothing particular to say about this chapter. Frankly, it's there mostly because of necessity. Still, there are some fun parts to it, and I like it like every other chapter. Perhaps a bit more history of the world I'm writing about, which I personally find interesting. Try and see if you can't notice the little winks here and there.**

**Warning: None, I think. By now you probably read in previous chapters the lowest I'll be going anyway.**

**Without further ado, please enjoy.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Student"**

When Impa enters the office that afternoon, I notice that she's smack on time. I'm already seated in a chair, in front of her desk, with my Fairy notebook on my lap, ready to take notes. I observe her as she shuts the door, a bit like an automaton, then strides towards the desk, observing my posture.

What she doesn't know, of course, is that I was not sitting straight-backed like this until five seconds ago, when I heard her coming down the hallway. But what she doesn't know can't hurt her.

"I'm impressed that you are actually early," she comments in her clip, serious tone. "Does this happen regularly, or do I have a chance of winning at the lottery today?"

I smile at her, resolute not to let her insults get to me. I'll just let them slide…

"I actually can manage punctuality, if that's of any surprise to you," I answer her.

Impa smiles thinly. "All's not lost, then." She leans towards me and examines my notebook. The one Link bought me. "A Fairy notebook. I see even a future queen is not protected from fashion trends and commercialism."

I smile still. "Link bought it for me. It helps the national economy to keep running."

"Forester, hm?" Impa's smile grows a bit ironic. "Interesting."

"Oh?" I won't let her lead the conversation. Politely, I ask, "No comments about his following trends?"

"None," Impa says. She can see I'm searching for ways to trap her in her own words. But she slips out of it easily, to my annoyance. "If I have a problem with Forester, rest assured that I would take it to him, and not discuss it with you or anyone else."

"How thoughtful of you," I say, plainly.

Impa seems to see I'm not going to let her put me down. I'm taking Link's advice to heart. I'll stay obedient, but graceful and strong.

"I've heard that you almost slipped away last night," Impa remarks.

"I'm sure you were rejoicing," I say, flatly. Oh. Wait. That's not quite as graceful.

Impa smirks. She sees me berating myself mentally. I really think my face is too easy to read. It would explain many things. "Frankly, I'd have preferred to know what was troubling you so much."

I don't answer her. In all likelihood, it'd just be ammunition against me, and honestly, I don't know how to formulate something that I've chosen to put behind me.

Impa doesn't seem ready to let me be, though. She leans forward, planting her hands firmly on the surface of her desk, her sharp eyes staring me through. "Why did you come back?"

I can see she's looking for something in my face, but I don't know what. So I go for honesty. "I didn't want to disappoint my friends or all those who seemed to believe in me so much."

There's a short silence, as though Impa is waiting for me to elaborate. "And… what about you?" She prompts.

Me? What is she talking about? Does she want me to open up as though she were a psychiatrist? That's insane, and I really hope she hasn't been expecting me to. "What about me?"

"What brought you back?"

What is with people and asking that question anyway? How does it matter, if I'm back and ready to take the job? I mention this to her.

"It matters," Impa says, with uncharacteristic patience, "because if you're back for selfish reasons, we don't want you around." Oh, harsh.

I'm not here for selfish reasons though. Honestly. "Well," I say, "in that case, you don't have anything to be worried about. If I had been selfish, I'd be long-gone."

Impa examines my face, and probably sees my conviction.

Because it's true: I used to worry only about how I appeared to the world. Fact is, the world doesn't care as long as it's not submitted to tyranny or abandoned like a dirty sock. And if I back out, if I freak out, if I can't hold on, then that's exactly what Hyrule is going to get. A tyrant called Ganondorf Dragmire, who'll make a mess out of everything.

If they really kept me in because they thought I could do it and if Link actually came after me yesterday night to beg me to come back, then clearly they all believe in me. If they hadn't trusted my worthiness, they'd have been relieved that I had managed to escape.

That's why I came back. It's because, in my darkest hour, they all still wanted me to stay.

I can only guess what Impa truly understands from what I have simply told her. In any case, she stands straight again, and looks down at me severely, with eyes that remind me of Sheik's but with colder, harsher glints.

Then, she smiles. Genuinely. Surprisingly, it lights her face with true benevolence.

"All right, then," she says. "Now what can you tell me about the first explorers of prehistoric Hyrule?"

That's when I realise that I finally obtained Impa Shade's approval.

Victory is mine!

I grin broadly. "The first explorers… I think they came in from Calatia."

Impa nods curtly. "This was roughly five centuries before Mudora. As you also probably know, Mudora was the first form of script used in the general area of what would become, much later, the Hylian Alliance. It is called Mudora because the title of the oldest written work known to Hylian kind happens to be called 'Book of Mudora'. It contains a very antiquated form of our current language and tells of the World Creation as perceived by our ancestors. What can you tell me of the ancient World Creation theory?"

I haven't noted much yet. I put in 'Book of Mudora' along with a few keywords. So I look up and say, "It's the story of the three Goddesses, isn't it?"

Impa nods. "The Three Goddesses, the Golden Goddesses, the Holy Goddesses, the Triforce, yes. This holy Tri-Force," she says, decorticating the word Triforce into its original meaning, "was said to have created the world from a void of darkness. You know the story. They tell it to every child. Din, strong flaming arms, red earth," she enumerates, waving her hand in a circular motion, dully listing it. "Nayru and her wisdom, Farore and her rich soul, and so on and so forth."

I acquiesce. It was one of Mom's favourite stories. Back when she was alive, she'd always tell it to me.

"The Book of Mudora gave birth to the most widespread religion in the world," Impa continues to explain. "At the time, the various countries that would eventually form the Hylian Alliance were lead onto a quest to seek knowledge. Religion triggered a spiritual movement that would justify much technological and intellectual advancement."

I keep jotting this down. She speaks fast, but I can still manage to keep up.

"It was at this point, for instance, that the concept of sowing natural seeds into a more accessible field started agriculture. Before that, people would simply pick whatever they could find in the wild."

"What time After Writing are we at, then?" I ask, still taking down the main ideas.

"Around two hundred A.W. At this point, pottery has become an art form. Rich families even hired sculptors to create their dishes. We're in the period of advanced sedentary installations. It is the time of Kakariko as a main city. People flock there and the city spreads well onto the slopes of the Death Mountain range."

"Wait," I interrupt her. "You mean that Marcastle…"

Impa motions for me to be patient. "Marcastle only comes a few hundred years later. Before that, Kakariko was the sole capital of the region of Hyrule, a province of Hylia. Hylia, as a country, roughly encompassed the overall territory of what is today the Hylian Alliance. It is around this time that the first real dynasty arises. The first ruler, King Adlar the Wise, takes the reins of Hylia in 286 A.W."

I don't know how long she keeps going like this. I note everything she says, and the time seems to fly by. I have to say, I like history in general. The idea that I'll need this if I ever become queen is a great incentive to stay awake.

Impa has a curt way of stating facts, but every so often, she pauses in the chronology and adds a couple of anecdotes that colour up whatever she's telling.

For instance, word has it that when the country of Hylia started fragmenting into different countries, around the sixth century After Writing, the only living heir to the throne, a princess, found refuge in a town north of Hyrule, Castleton. There, she met a commoner with great sword-fighting skills, who became her protector and eventually her lover.

Because their union was frowned upon, she renounced the throne and established herself with her lover in the south of Hyrule, near Lake Hylia ―near Lakeside, interestingly, ― and they had many children. The first royal line ended there. Back in Castleton, there were many fights to determine which lord or baron would become the new ruler.

At the same time, Impa explains, the other provinces of ex-Hylia created their own monarchies and their own systems. The provinces became countries. The oldest was Calatia, then Hyrule, then Termina, Labrynna and Holodrum, Minish, and finally, the Waker Islands, the archipelago that was discovered in the twelfth century and populated by people from Labrynna, Termina and Holodrum, the only countries to have access to the vast ocean.

Hyrule, on its part, shifted the capital from Kakariko to Castleton. Castleton had been home to many lords and thanes, and therefore was decided to become the centre of culture and business. The market of Castleton was, during the sixth and seventh centuries, the biggest and most active marketplace in all of ex-Hylia. It would be so renowned that it even affected the name change Castleton would undergo during the eighth century. The name Marcastle came from the fusion of the words Market and Castle.

I hadn't known this. Impa takes a moment to drink from a cup of coffee that she brought in with her. A bit flatly, she says, "At least my lesson won't be completely useless, then."

I look at her in mild exasperation, then flip through the few pages of notes that I took in the past three hours. I'm beginning to get tired. Impa holds out a hand. A bit apprehensively, I give her my notebook.

She reads through it, her face carefully blank. Outside the narrow window in her office, I can see birds flying. The afternoon has grown a bit windy, so they're playing in the strong gusts of wind, letting themselves glide and sway. Invariably, the sight brings a smile to my face, as it always does. In Lakeside, back in the days when Mom was still alive, she and I would go on the shores of Lake Hylia on a day like this one. We'd have a picnic and throw breadcrumbs at the seagulls.

"You're rather good at taking notes," Impa suddenly says, tugging me out of my daydream. I blink up at her. She hands me my notebook back. "Very few people can actually keep up with me."

I guess that's true, but I mostly attribute it to taking orders from customers, back in the days when I was a waitress. I explain it to Impa, a bit sheepishly, expecting her to make a snide comment. But she seems to have lost any animosity she had once felt towards me. Now, she simply listens to whatever I say and looks a bit sceptical.

"It's true," I say, trying to convince her.

"I won't doubt you," Impa says. "I think you can handle that department on your own."

Well, that was a bit snide. I stare at her, gaping a bit. Then, I exclaim, "Hey, you're still not trusting me. I said I was going to stay!"

Impa nods. "That's good news, but doesn't mean you'll stop doubting your abilities."

She has a point. Still, I figure that from now on, I just won't let my insecurity show as much. Who cares if I'm unsure, as long as I look the part, right? And since I don't want to live in that uncertainty for the rest of my days, I'll just keep gathering all the skills a queen needs, to eventually eliminate negative feelings.

Just because I'm not perfect now doesn't mean I can't aim at becoming so. I want to be the most admired queen, the kindest, wisest, and most reliable. I know that won't come easy, and I'll have to work really hard. Plus, perfection is impossible to attain, but I'll still keep trying.

"You look rather determined," Impa comments, re-arranging her own notes. I look up from my daze and grin.

"I just came to a decision, that's all."

"How lovely," Impa merely answers, not looking curious at all. Oh well. "Now, you'll have to excuse me." She checks her wristwatch. "But I have a strict physical training that Strike put together for me, and it commands a few laps in the palace pool."

Hey, two new bits of information, right there! For one, I didn't know Sheik had created a training program for Impa. I didn't even know they could get along at all, since Sheik is so relaxed and Impa is so uptight. I mean, I hardly realise Impa knows what a tree is, with all the time she spends in her office, whereas Sheik would rather be a tree himself!

And for two, why did no one mention before that the palace had a swimming pool? Was I meant never to know? That's so unfair! I love swimming!

Impa clearly sees my surprise, and smiles thinly. "The palace has a big pool with a side whirlpool tub at the edge of the gardens. It's surrounded by very high hedgerows."

"No kidding," I say, a bit awed. "And that's where you train?"

Impa nods curtly. "One day a week. The rest of the time, I have other exercises to practice."

So, that's why she's so muscular. I refrain from admiring her sinewy forearms. It's a bit odd. Impa's shape comes across as kind of masculine, if you ignore her breasts. It's a bit creepy, but it seems to fit her general attitude.

"With that," Impa says, picking up her stuff and heading for the door, "I bid you a good week. We'll see each other next week, to learn more about the golden age of Hyrule. It'll be a detailed lesson spanning just four centuries, instead of nearly a millennia, as we've done today."

I nod. I can deal with that. My biggest concern right now is why I haven't tried the pool out yet, to be quite honest.

That or the whirlpool tub, in which I can definitely picture a steamy Link and myself drinking Shakers until he realises his eternal love for me.

"Have a nice day," I say to Impa, trying to get my most recent fantasy out of my head.

She nods back, and smiles, even. Then, she turns on her heel and disappears down the hallway. This forces a grin to my face. It's late afternoon, I just finished my first lesson with Impa Shades, and I'm already on her good side.

Well, I consider, mentally patting myself on the back, that wasn't nearly as difficult as Link and the others had warned me.

Speaking of Link, I wonder what he looks like in swim trunks. Oh Nayru, enough with that, Zellie! You shouldn't be thinking that way about your publicist. He's your publicist; he could make your life a living hell―

"Miss Zelda?"

I turn. And I look down. I see a thick browed, unenthusiastic guy with sideburns, looking like he's been living off caffeine for the past month. I recognise him as Zuko Loud, one of Tetra's assistants. When I was first introduced to him, he kept making incomprehensible sounds, which Tetra alone seemed capable of deciphering. Over time, I began to make out a couple of words, and now I understand whatever he mumbles summarily.

For example, when it seems Zuko is mumbling 'Dezafoyu', he really is saying, "These are for you."

Actually, with those words, he hands me a massive bouquet of flowers. It's an assorted arrangement, with many summer flowers and leaves, and it looks almost too big for him to carry.

Wait. He's offering me flowers?

I lean down and take them from him as gracefully as possible, trying not to look too bewildered. All along I'm wondering, 'Okay, how do I break it to him that I actually lust after my publicist and not after him?'

But then he mumbles, 'Ridakard,' and I understand he means, "Read the card."

I search around the immense pile of flowers for a card. Luckily, I find one, a little sage green thing, looking very plain and nondescript. I smile at Zuko and hope that his writing is more comprehensible than his speech.

But it turns out the card and the flowers aren't from Zuko after all. With growing surprise, I read what is neatly and politely written inside the little note.

'Dear 'Princess' Zelda,' it reads, 'We wish to offer you these flowers in regard to the kind and forgiving word you put in for us during your first official public hearing last week. We sincerely apologize for having expelled you from one of our groups a couple of years ago, and thank you very dearly for being so merciful in your treatment of our organization. As a symbol of our gratitude, we will now also sponsor the creation of the Kokiri Reserve and root for you as a new ruler for this nation. You will without a doubt make a terrific queen. With due regards, ―Hyrule Wood Scouts.'

It takes me a while to realise what this is all about. It occurs to me that the Wood Scouts are thanking me for not talking badly about them during the meeting with the Youth Group and the journalists.

I can't believe this. They're thanking me for being gracious?

Cool.

Really. This is great. It means, then, that for every good action that I make, something even better comes out of it!

I try to look around for Zuko, but he's vanished. That's another thing about Zuko Loud: he tends to disappear without a trace, to attend other chores, and you hardly ever notice it.

Well, whatever. He probably knows his way around better than I do. For now, all I'm worried about is where I could find a flower vase that could contain all these flowers. A part of me is unbelievably gleeful that I have people supporting me. And another is still rejoicing that Impa has actually softened up with me.

That's why I don't hear anyone approaching. I'm too busy grinning.

So, when I hear a smooth, masculine voice ask, "Why the smile?" I nearly jump a mile high.

I turn around. Link is standing there, looking a bit tired, but otherwise glad to see me. He notices the flowers ―they are hard to miss― and says, "Oh? Secret admirer already?"

"They're from Wood Scouts," I exclaim, instead, in a voice that is way too thrilled to be explained with reasoning. I don't care that I sound hysterically happy. "They're going to sponsor the Kokiri reserve and they're rooting for me!"

Link smiles a bit, looking satisfied. I get this feeling like he's had a hand in having the flowers brought to me. I lean forward and, suspicious, I ask, "Did you already know?"

Link's eyebrows shoot up. He looks convincing in his surprise. "Me? No, of course not. I can promise that those flowers are from Wood Scouts, and that I had no part in their decision to send them to you."

That rings true enough, but what about… "How is it that Zuko had them brought to me personally?"

This is where Link begins to look a tad uncomfortable. "Well, you know. We get a lot of mail from new fans of yours and journalists and everything, but rarely from organisations like that…"

I smile, seeing that he's trying to back out of the conversation. "And?"

Here, my publicist clears his throat and averts his eyes. I wait, patiently. I get this feeling like Link did something extremely sweet to which he won't fess up.

Which, needless to say, makes me very curious. So I have to incite a bit of reaction.

It's true though. The palace gets a lot of mail and other stuff for me, so why would Zuko bring over that specific one? Obviously, it's to cheer me up, but who told him to do that? Zuko doesn't strike me as the very sensitive type.

"Well, Link?"

He finally says, "Okay, okay, fine. You were depressed, you were going to have a lesson with Impa Shades, and you needed a lot of cheering up. So," he admits, a bit embarrassed, "I thought it'd be a good idea to show you that I'm not the only one who thinks you can do this."

I could kiss him. Really.

This guy is way too perfect. If I had just the tiniest bit of sense, I'd be kissing him right now.

But I can't do that, since he's my publicist. So, instead, I go for, "That's very sweet of you," and I smile, trying not to leap for joy.

After all, he has every reason to be in a cranky mood: his sister has a hangover, and I was with Ralph most of the night yesterday, and Ralph is a guy who, if Sheik is to be trusted, Link doesn't exactly like, and I almost ran away from here, and I almost ruined all his work…

But he still finds the time and mind to do little things like this, for me?

I swear there is no explanation for why he's still unmarried.

He must have this flaw that all the other girls found annoying or something. Maybe he was so handsome that it made their own looks seem boring… But I wouldn't care about that, personally, which is why Link and I are obviously a match made in―

Oh, Farore, who am I kidding?

Link never does anything without cause.

Anyway, right now, he's looking impossibly good and that could almost make me forget that there might be a hidden reason for all this kindness. And my suspicions are confirmed when he asks, "So… you're not going to leave, correct? Even if Impa was ignoble to you?"

Ah, so there it is. Link was just trying to cheer me up because he thought my lesson with Impa could have made me doubt my return and induced me to leave again.

That's a bit of a downer.

Wait. Correction. It's a big, major downer.

Can I just say I hate workaholics, especially those who have yet to admit that they're workaholics? I'm a bit wounded to find out that Link just had the flowers relayed to me to avoid another incident like the one yesterday.

I feel myself frown slightly, and even the flowers in my hands seem to wither just a bit.

"I'm not going to leave," I say, perhaps a bit acidly. "I don't intend to. And, by the way, Impa was very good to me today."

This last bit seems to surprise Link, who nevertheless manages to look suitably relieved. I can't believe he had the gut to try and manipulate my impressions of today.

"So, she didn't lecture you? About anything?" He sounds a tad incredulous.

"She didn't," I say. "Impa and I have started getting along just fine."

I feel something boiling inside of me. Why are they always expecting things and trying to prevent them when there is no need to? It's so frustrating. It even tarnishes the kindness of those who are sincere.

Link doesn't seem to realise that he's made a mistake. He just looks impressed and happy. Obviously, he looks gorgeous when he's like that, and it makes it hard to stay angry with him. But I won't waver, not now.

"Link," I say, and he looks my way expectantly ―he'd been examining one of the lamps on the wall, "You don't have to buy me anymore." I try to keep my voice level, but it's hard, since I just feel like screaming in frustration. "You know that, right? I'm not going to run anymore. A little encounter with Impa won't faze me, so," I take a deep breath to keep my composure under Link's suddenly intense stare, "you don't have to be nice to me just because of your job. I'd like it if you were nice to me because you really wanted to be. And if you don't want to, then please, don't pretend to care."

I can see that Link looks a bit guilty now, and a bit at a loss of what to say. I expect him to deny that he's been doing it just for his job, to try and look blameless.

But he doesn't do anything like it.

Instead, he brings a hand to my arm and, very seriously, with an expression I'm assuming he'd use to declare his undying love to someone ―yeah, I know, I wish, ― he says, "I'm sorry." When I don't answer, partly because he's so handsome and it's killed my reaction time, he continues, "If you really are certain that you're here to stay, then I won't doubt you again."

Don't melt, Zellie, don't melt. Who cares if he's so gorgeous that he looks like a candy bar and you're imagining trailing your mouth over his long, lean body? Oh, gosh, don't melt, or else you might spoil the moment, and that would suck.

Link seems oblivious to his effect on me. He takes his hand away from my arm, brings both hands behind his back, looks at his shoes, then back up at my face and asks, "Should I take this as your final answer to the five day reflection time?"

I can't help a tiny smile, and I see the corners of his lips rising too.

"Yeah," I say. "I think I'm staying."

Link grins, revealing his set of pearly white teeth. "Great." He looks like he's about to say something more, but then smiles to himself and asks, "Am I forgiven?"

Um. Duh, I think, wondering how a normal woman could keep a grudge against him. It doesn't seem to me like he has many enemies, actually.

Well, just look at the way he's apologizing! Is it really any wonder?

The question, of course, is how does one stay angry with him if he really does something cruel? I mean, look at those eyes, and that gorgeous face and that―

He's still waiting for my answer.

And, in fact, my silence has made him a bit worried-looking. It's a bit his fault, I think, because if he weren't nearly that perfect my mind wouldn't have strayed.

"Zelda?" He asks, concerned by my quiet contemplation.

I beam at him. "You're forgiven."

He grins in relief. "Phew. You worried me, there, for a moment." He offers me his arm and thereby makes me heat up. "Now, about tomorrow…"

* * *

**Next chapter will be widely appreciated, I think. Teeheehee.**

**I mentioned King Adlar the Wise. Adlar was a wise old man from the Oracle of Ages game. I didn't just invent the name. I actually did research! Yes. This tends to happen when you're an obsessed freak like me.**

**Nothing else to add. Review if you so please, or wait until the next chapter. You will want to review the next chapter instinctively anyway. I can wait. ;p**

**Love,  
CM**


	14. Vacationer

**Chapter 14, possibly one of my favourite chapters for its sheer lightness and for the dialogues, which I heart very much for some reason. ****Also, reintroduction of a few characters. That can only be good.**

**This chapter tells of Day 17. ****I'm proud of this chapter, and I sincerely think you're going to like it too, so I'll quit stalling you more than I already have.**

**Enjoy. I really mean that.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Vacationer"**

There is nothing better, I officially decide, than lying in a long chair in the middle of the afternoon beside a splendid pool, wearing a queenly string bikini and soaking in the rays. It's been so long since I last did that, so I had to spread on some sunscreen, but it doesn't matter. The day started out beautifully, with a bright sunshine and no clouds. The sky, even in the city, is a deep, intense blue.

The air is clear, there's a refreshing breeze, and, the moment I saw the palace pool, I knew the only way to spend my first day off was to spend it right here, next to the water.

"This is the life," Aryll mumbles with satisfaction from beneath her sunglasses next to me. She's wearing a light blue bikini that incited a few ogles from Niko and Gonzo on our way here. Her sun-bleached hair is splayed around her head making her look like she's had plenty of beach moments back in Waker Islands. In comparison, my hair can't look nearly that good.

But who cares? I know I don't.

"Yeah," I say, mirroring her languid, lazy tone with mine. "Too bad Tetra had work to do."

"She said she might drop by later," Aryll reminds me.

I grunt, unwilling to formulate a word more. The heat is making me feel drowsy.

"Don't fall asleep," Aryll jokes. "You might toast, and that's no good for your health."

"Screw my health. I'm loving this."

We stay silent for a long moment, and when I think that Aryll fell asleep herself, she asks, in the same lazy tone, "Weren't your friends supposed to come over to Marcastle today?"

I nod, and I think that if her eyes are closed like mine, she can't see the motion, so I say, "Yeah. But they ―as in your brother and the others― didn't want me to leave the palace grounds to wander in a public, uncontrolled place. I protested, as you can guess, so Link vowed that he'd have someone pick them up at their hotel."

"They're not staying here?"

"They don't have a reason to. They don't want to have to check-in and out of security. I don't blame them."

Besides, I figure since I'll most often be taking lessons or on duty, having them at the palace at all times would impede on their tourist trips. And it wouldn't be fair.

"So when are they coming over?"

"I'm not sure," I mumble. "I guess they'll be here anytime soon."

I don't hear Aryll's response because at that very moment, a familiar voice says, "It's in days like these that I love being a lord."

I open my eyes and turn. Aryll too shifts in her chair, and we both look at Ralph Ambi, who has joined us by the poolside and is grinning down at us. He isn't smiling in a lecherous way, but his tone is heavy with insinuation. I roll my eyes behind my shades.

Notably, Ralph Ambi looks great in swimming trunks.

No, I'm not kidding.

He's got abs, baby. Abs.

Aryll too seems to notice this, and looks eloquently back at me over the rim of her sunglasses. To Ralph, she says, "Are you the guy who kept me from vomiting all over the Grave Yard lounge?"

Ralph grins. "I guess so. I hope your hangover hasn't been too hard on you."

Aryll smiles. "Well, I'm starting to feel a bit better now." She sends him a simple, obvious look.

"Shocking," Ralph answers, gravely.

Wait a minute.

Is Aryll… flirting? Worse. Is Ralph responding to and enjoying it?

Oh, I can see why Link is so suspicious of Ralph now. I suppress a giggle.

Ralph drops the towel he had slung over his tanned shoulder onto the chair next to Aryll. Apologetically, he says, bowing a bit, "Do excuse me, but the water looks too good to pass up on." With that, he and his gorgeous toned body plunge in the deep end of the pool smoothly, hardly sending any droplets flying. We see him vanish below the surface, only to reappear a few strokes away from us, pushing his hair out of his face with both hands, his shoulders bunching up a bit, all the while wearing a broad, contented grin.

Aryll, I notice, seems to appreciate the sight at much as I am.

She turns to say something when suddenly another, extremely familiar voice says, "So I work my butt off down south while you get a great show up north on the side of a pool? Some queen you are."

I'm so surprised that I nearly choke on my own saliva. I turn to stare wide-eyed at Malon, who is standing there in the sunlight, arms crossed and a flat look on her face. I realise her eyes still have the same laughing glint in them, so I allow myself to reply, "It's my right. This is my first vacation day since I came here."

Malon and I stare each other down when suddenly we break off into hysterical squeals, the likes of which would surely awaken the dead. I stand and run over to her, hugging her tightly.

"Oh, I missed you so much!" I exclaim, and she laughs as gleefully as I feel.

Ralph wades over to the shallow end and leans against the edge of the pool, looking beyond Aryll at our antics. Aryll too seems extremely amused.

"When did you get here?" I ask, excitedly.

"We just did," Malon says, and looks over her shoulder to check that the coast is clear before confiding, "Ruto's dad paid for our tickets! The guy who came to pick us up ―Sheik Strike, I think his name is― has got to be the most amazing man I have ever―"

"There she goes again," a smooth, confident female voice says, and I see Ruto Watters turning the hedge corner to join us. I squeal again and hop away from Malon to hug her.

A ways behind me, I hear Ralph mumble something incoherent but awed.

I can't blame him. Ruto has that effect on people. She's one of those slinky, gorgeous diva types. With pale, almost shining skin, impossibly long legs and exotic features, she's what girls would kill to be. Her jet-black hair is always perfect and silky, and her eyes are always perfectly made-up. She's got the confidence of a pack leader. And yet, with Malon and I, Ruto drops the fashion-plate attitude and forgets she's a rich man's daughter. Her fuse is longer than Malon's but when she gets upset she's fiercer even, which is a sight to behold.

"She's been going on about Mr. Strike since we got out of his hearing range," she explains to me.

Indignantly, Malon says, "Excuse me. Am I really to blame? Have you seen that guy anyway?" She turns to ask for my support. "Tell her."

I just laugh at their familiar antics and say, "I am so happy to see you both."

"Actually," Ruto declares, "Anju is there too, but she stopped to talk with hunk boy number 593, also known as Link Forester, I believe."

At my raised but carefully not jealous brow, she says, "She's been asking about behind the scenes progress and wondering if she can make t-shirts with your face on them."

Oh my. I briefly wonder if I shouldn't just head inside and salvage what is left of my image, but then I decide that Link probably knows what he's doing.

Aryll, behind me, still lying in her long chair, almost audibly raises a brow and snickers, "Hunk boy number 593?" Ah. Obviously, her siblinghood blinds her to her brother's hotness.

Ruto shrugs coolly and answers her, "Yes. It seems the only thing around here are handsome men." She sends a subtle glance at Ralph, who is listening amusedly. "We might get confused, so we number them."

Ralph, having gotten over his awe of Ruto fast enough to formulate full sentences by now, comments, "Clearly, you haven't encountered the staff."

Aryll and I turn to Ralph reproachfully, trying to hide our approval, and I say, "Ralph, take that back. They're extremely nice people."

"Thank goodness," Ralph smirks. "It's all they have left."

This time, Aryll can't hold back her giggle, and even I have to try not to smile too visibly. Malon and Ruto shoot me glances that seem to say, 'you've been sitting here flirting your butt off all along, sneaky canary.' I know exactly that's what they're thinking, I've known them that long. It's a real bitch sometimes, because then I can't pretend I don't know what their eloquent looks mean.

I know. My life is so hard.

"So," Ruto says, commandeering a long chair next to me, making Malon squeak at the unfairness, "spill. Any hot dukes you might want to introduce us to?"

"None," I declare in honesty.

"Liar," Ruto snaps back, squinting in warning as she leans forward menacingly.

Before I can defend myself against her comical mistrust, I hear Ralph's indignant voice say, "Yeah. Liar. What do I count for? Seaweed?"

I turn to him and prepare myself for another front of defence, when Aryll says, "Oh, stop that self-pity thing, Ralph. You don't count. She said dukes, not lords. You have to pay attention when people speak, you know."

Ralph sends her a wounded glare, but then his eye gets that weird glint of evil plotting. He stares at Aryll's gently cooking body and a smirk grows on his face.

Before Aryll knows it, Ralph has pulled himself out of the pool, much to Malon, Ruto and my contented awe ―there's water droplets running their happy shining course down his splendid body, a sight for any woman to appreciate― and is hefting Aryll up. At this point, she has taken to screeching her head off because he's soaked and cold in comparison to her warm dry skin, and has begun to fight back and struggle, as she can sense what fate awaits her.

We watch in bemused silence as Ralph and Aryll both tumble into the pool, Ralph laughing in glorious victory ―and joy at being able to feel a bit of Aryll up, I'm sure― and Aryll screaming bloody murder.

I must say it's very entertaining.

When Aryll re-emerges next to Ralph, gasping indignantly, she sends a large splash of water in his direction, which he merely laughs at. In spite of getting completely soaked, Aryll looks like she doesn't mind all that much.

Still, she looks my way for support, and I can't help a giggle.

That is, until another male voice behind us makes my heart dive well into my stomach by asking, "What in the world are you doing to my sister, Ambi?"

I turn to look at Link, and I definitely turn to jelly.

Because, see, he's wearing bathing trunks, the bastard. I'm saying bastard because he should know a body like that is a potential hazard for sensible girls like me.

Especially if that body is a stunning specimen of male perfection, with that slightly tanned skin and lean, toned muscles moving right under it, looking like human candy without the sugar and added weight. In all, he's drool-worthy, and in the boundaries of any diet.

His dirty blonde hair looks a bit scraggly, but totally sexy, and fits amazingly well with that hard stomach and those sinewy arms and hands― Never mind Ralph. Link is twice as gorgeous.

Speaking of Ralph, the poor guy ―objectively speaking, he's far from poor, but he's sure to suffer, which kinda makes me pity him― turns away from Aryll's uncontrolled laughter to look beyond Ruto, Malon and I. His smile wanes a bit, but then he says, "Forester. Hey. I'm helping her to loosen up."

"What? I do not need loosening up, you bastard!" Aryll exclaims, suddenly growing angry, splashing Ralph more, which makes him grin.

Link raises a blonde eyebrow. I can see that he knows that Aryll and Ralph have been flirting outrageously, and I expect him to calmly ask Aryll to knee Ralph where it hurts most. Of course, a pure physicist might wonder, is it possible to kick someone with much force if slowed by water?

Not, I think, that Link's protective-big-brother syndrome will care much for physics at this point. I figure if Aryll can't manage to kick Ralph in the family jewels quite hard enough, Link could gladly do it himself.

Surprisingly, Link does not ask his sister to kick her unofficial wooer in the gonads at all. He simply closes his eyes, inhales deeply, and says, under his breath so neither Aryll or Ralph can overhear him properly, "Please don't tell me this originated in the Grave Yard."

"Okay, then," I say, trying to keep my voice level ―don't look at me, look at those abs! ― "I won't."

Link nods, opens his eyes again, and strides past me and towards the deeper end of the pool, where Aryll and Ralph await their full sentence. This allows Malon, Ruto and I an unhindered view of his faintly tanned and rippled back and shoulders as he walks away from us.

Drool.

"Please tell me he's good in bed," Malon whispers in my ear, looking at Link fixedly.

"I don't know," I say. But then I figure he probably is. It would so figure.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Malon hisses into my ear, again, sounding incredulous. "What have you been doing all this time? Picking flowers?"

"No," I say, still a bit dazed by Link, who is now busily telling Ralph that he needs to talk, man-to-man. At least, that's what I gather. I must say I'm fairly distracted by the way the electric blue water reflections play on Link's exquisite body. "I've been learning to sit."

Ruto snickers a bit. Right now, Ralph is trying to evade Link's ultimatum. It's kind of a funny scene, actually.

"What do you mean you've been learning to sit?" Malon whispers harshly next to me, keeping her voice just low enough so that the others can't overhear us. "I know the only thing I'd want to be sitting on if I were you is―"

"What the heck are you whispering about?" Another familiar voice asks, and I turn to grin broadly at my unknowing saviour.

"Anju!" I exclaim, hugging her tightly. "Save me!"

"What I'm whispering about," Malon says, now speaking at a normal tone of voice, which has managed to attract the attention of the actors in the drama unfolding just a few big strides away from us. She lowers her voice to a whisper again, hissing angrily in my face, "is that Zelda is being slow and stupid. Again."

"Hey," I whisper back, trying to keep my indignation under control, "I'm not stupid."

"At least tell me he saw your beetle underwear," Malon indulgently offers, making Anju look from my face to hers and back.

"What?" I breathe, feeling myself grow bright red at the very thought of Link seeing any of my underwear, "Are you crazy?"

"See?" Malon says, lifting her hand almost like she just demonstrated something of scientific certainty, "she's stupid."

Anju looks a bit amused, but then she says, "I don't know. It just kind of looks like she has been ogling him in silence."

I would've liked to say that meanwhile the men engaged in a distracting full-out brawl of majestic proportions, but unfortunately, that is not the case. It's a pity, because I know the idea of two stunningly hot, half-naked men engaging in a wrestling match to prove their muscular supremacy is the stuff of dreams.

But we live in a civilized world, so instead, it seems Link and Ralph simply talked it out. Or, rather, it seems Link talked Ralph out of trying to sleep with his sister. But I don't think Ralph had such designs in the first place, which is why both men walk away from the face-off looking vaguely reassured.

I guess talking really does avoid open conflicts. What a lesson for the future.

"I'm telling you," Malon is whispering now as she sees our private consultation time drawing to an end, "it was high time we got here, darling, because we're going to get you moving."

"That's a hideous prospect," I conclude miserably.

"No," Malon confidently insists, "it's not. Now here he comes. Ask him to join you in the whirlpool tub. Now."

"No!"

"Now!" Malon exclaims, returning to normal voice level.

"You'll have to kill me first!" I courageously declare.

"Maybe I will!" Malon says, a smile beginning to stretch her features.

"I'm not afraid of you!"

"Fine then! Die, die, die!"

At this point, Malon and I resolve not to talk it out, which is what we should have done. Malon clearly hasn't seen the guys talk it out, because she was too busy berating me for not making a move on Link yet, which just proves once more that Link is too handsome for my own good.

In any case, it is somewhat of a mystery how I wind up colliding with Link's warm body a mere second later and toppling into the water, with Link's chest as the only thing in sight for a second or two.

Heaven, I think for a blissful split second, until I realise that, technically and hopefully, in heaven, one should be able to breathe.

I push towards the surface and catch my breath. At the same time, Link pops out from under the water and takes in a deep lungful of oxygen. A bit bewildered, he looks at me, but I'm too busy avoiding his gaze and glaring up at Malon, who is grinning down at me victoriously.

"You didn't have to push me in," I scowl.

Malon just grins. "You were roasting a bit too much."

Ralph, who has observed the whole incident from the poolside, next to a very amused Aryll, suddenly says, albeit teasingly, "That's right, Forester. Berate me for innocent flirting with your sister and feel up the future queen yourself, why don't you?"

I swear I am never going to lose this blush. That would be too good. I turn to Ralph and say, a bit panicked, "That's not what it's like."

But Ralph just winks at me, signifying he's merely trying to reel Link up. I expect Link to deny Ralph's accusation, but instead, my gorgeous publicist pulls himself out of the water ―oh my Nayru, rippling muscles! ― mumbling, "Mind your own business, Ambi. I can have you sent back without diplomatic troubles, you know."

I look up just in time to see rivulets of water undulating on Link's body as he walks back towards his towel, the glittering droplets like specks of white light on every ridge of his chest and stomach.

Too hot… I feel faint.

"Oh, Zelda," Malon teases under the extremely amused gazes of Ruto and Anju, "don't stay in there too long. You might turn into an old fruit."

"I hate you so much," I mumble, moving with a stretch of my arms to the edge of the pool. I pull myself up, but not with as much strength at Link just did. Don't blame me; I'm a lazy ass and he's got the sexiest muscles in Hyrule.

"No, you don't, sweetie," Malon says, handing me my towel and evading my little flicks of water. "You just know I'm always right, and that annoys you."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Ruto asks Anju, who is now lost in her thoughts, possibly thinking about a new t-shirt design, though I hope it doesn't involve me, even remotely.

Wishful thinking, I know.

Thankfully, at this point Koume decides to come by with a large platter of food. This distracts almost everyone enough that I can just reach for my towel and attempt to dry myself off.

I notice Link is glancing my way, and when he realises I'm looking back, he smiles weakly and asks, "You're okay?"

I sidestep towards him, and, as subtly as possible, I ask, "Please tell me you didn't accept Anju's offer to make a t-shirt with my face on it."

Link laughs, which hardly earns us a glance. Everyone else is too busy trying to fill his or her stomach. Malon, Ruto and Anju are pleading exhaustion and hunger from the trip, and Aryll and Ralph are only too eager to help them finish the plate. "How could I not?" He asks. "Her design was brilliant."

I can't disguise my despair. I don't want my face to end up on anyone's chest!

Unless it's Link's, of course, but obviously that doesn't count.

"What design?"

Link's lips are stretched into a smirk as he steers me towards the food, "One of her bestsellers, with the key line being 'Only in Hyrule'."

Oh Din.

Link stretches one of his sinewy arms over his sister's shoulder, grabs a bunch of grapes, throws one of the little fruits into his mouth, then offers me some.

So, I end up eating grapes with a half-naked Link instead of complaining about my face on other peoples' chests. So sue me. I had to grab the opportunity. Other girls wouldn't have done any different if they'd been in my place.

"I might even buy one of those t-shirts myself," Link casually says, and I almost choke on a grape. He slaps my shoulder lightly until I catch my breath. "Hey, don't die on me." He laughs. "If my support is unappreciated, then I won't."

"Must you all torment me so?" I say, despaired. "It's bad enough that I have all this stress on my shoulders..."

"Stress?" Ruto overhears and seems to find this laughable. "Give me a break. You've been lying on the poolside all day."

"She has a Royal Guard review to do on horseback tomorrow," Link mildly comments, and I appreciate his defence because I'd forgotten I have―

Oh Farore! A Royal Guard review! I'd totally forgotten! What if I mess up? What if I make a fool of myself because Epona doesn't cooperate? What if I break my neck??

Calm down, Zelda… Okay. _Now _I'm really stressed.

Malon spots my anguish and waves it off. "Easy, there. I'll help you handle the horse if you panic."

Ruto squints at Malon. "You're just saying that because Mr. Strike is in charge of the horses here."

Malon shrugs. "So? At least I freely admit that I enjoy Mr. Strike's company. At least he's more accessible than your guy."

Wait. Guy? Ruto has a guy? "You have a guy?" I blurt out, my shock causing Malon, Anju, Link, Aryll and Ralph to chuckle.

"He's not my guy," Ruto sniffs, a bit disdainfully as Malon's feigned ignorance and my genuine one. "Would you please? Besides, you already met him. You know he's not a gorgeous specimen."

I already met him? Um. "You're not referring to Barry Barinade, right? That guy was just weird." Ruto met him while working at the marine research centre. His good looks got him in Ruto's bed until she realised he was completely and frighteningly obsessed with electric jellyfish, after which she made all the possible efforts to distance herself from his freakishness.

Malon stifles a snort of laughter, and Ruto sends her an annoyed look. To me, she says, "Obviously not. I'm talking about my all-time idol, Jabun Jabu." I can see her face light up. "He's a brilliant mind." Then, her gaze sharpens as its fixes itself on me. "I saw you on TV. You had the amazing opportunity to speak with him and I'm sure you didn't even realise it."

I try to look indignant, but I kind of know that she's right. "Excuse me, I was trying to look like I cared about crazy people named Tingle, okay?"

"Speaking of which," Anju suddenly says, speaking up for the first time in a while, "would you mind," she asks Link, "if I took that picture of Tingle holding onto you for a comedy shirt?"

Link looks a bit surprised and vaguely embarrassed. His eyes search mine, but I just avert my gaze and force a smirk. Now he knows how I feel. Hah!

I see him shake his head to himself and smile in disbelief, before saying, to Anju, "Of course I don't mind."

I send him a glare, but he just smirks right back.

There should be a law against sexy men like that. Din knows they hinder proper thought patterns and everything.

I mean, I'd like to think that I look good enough myself. Ralph has been alluding on a regular basis that I'm easy on the eyes, after all, and Link has been looking my way a bit longer at times than strictly necessary. But I sometimes wish that I could make guys drool at the sight of me like I tend to drool for Link. It's like guys have more control on stuff like that than I do.

It's a real bummer.

I'm pulled from my thoughts by a hand on my shoulder. I see Ralph leaning to examine my face. I blink at him curiously. He's grinning broadly.

That's when he asks, "Are you paying attention?" He jabs his thumb in Malon's direction, even as she talks almost non-stop in animation to the others, "She's describing your beetle panties to your publicist."

As my face grows steadily darker, I'm wonder if having my friends around is such a great thing after all.

* * *

**Yes indeed. Malon, Anju and Ruto are back! While they won't be in every upcoming chapter, at least they're back!**

**Barry Barinade refers, obviously, to the giant ameoba in Jabu-Jabu's belly, which I personally find to be the most disgusting concept for a boss one could imagine. Strangely enough, it works.**

**I should be posting chapter 15 sometime during the weekend. It contains a rudimentary fashion commentary, and perhaps even a bit of sweetness. Or maybe it contains blood, gore, and character death. Maybe I went insane and actually did that? You'll have to wait and see.**

**And now, you know you want to leave a comment. Go on, don't be shy. I can handle everything you might want to squeal about.**

**Love,  
CM**


	15. Horsewoman

**Yikes. Chapter 15. We're already past the half of OiH! We've passed the 8k hits mark too and with this chapter we'll be passing the 300 reviews mark. W00t. I must once again thank you for that. You're all awesomely cool.**

**This chapter contains (GASP) some very annoyingly mild Zelink. Mehehehe. See my blog (entry titled "Omgwtfhax"―yes, that's the title) before ranting about how cruel I am.**

**I won't add any other comments in case I kill the punch. See you at the bottom o' the page.**

**Enjoy.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Horsewoman"**

Sheik assures me that I'm ready. I believe him because his training was rough and what I need to do today, on the eighteenth day of my presence in Marcastle, is apparently very easy.

Malon, of course, has not strayed from my side all morning. The idea for her is to play the part of the concerned friend. She's been harassing Sheik about Epona for the past two hours, asking if the saddle and bridle were well secured, if there was an emergency plan and if he'd been in the business for a long time. I let her fuss. It gives her an opportunity to speak with Sheik and it gives Sheik an opportunity to look competent ―something he rarely gets― so I won't come between them.

Besides, it really does seem as though Sheik prefers redheads.

As I absently watch Sheik soothing Malon's worries, I wonder where Ruto and Anju have gone. I know Link went out with Aryll for today and that both of them will be back in time for the review. So, at least I know that my friends aren't telling him any more embarrassing tales regarding my underwear.

How embarrassing is that anyway? You'd think they'd have a strict minimum of consideration for my sanity, though apparently they don't.

On top of all that, I constantly expect more tabloids to show up with a scandal to my name. It might sound paranoid, but over the past few days, the number of negative rumours about me has risen proportionally to the good news. I found out because Tetra was ranting about it angrily to Link and I overheard them.

Link, on his part, seems to consider this onslaught of slanders with a more philosophical point of view. I know he's been trying to hide from me the great number of shameful articles we've been getting, but, as he says, any talk of me, at this point, is sure to draw attention, and that's what we need.

Among the gossip, word has it that I was once pregnant and got aborted in secret; that I'm not the true daughter of Nohansen; that I bought my way into the ministers' cabinet ―some even claim that I slept my way up!

I know Link's been actively working at ending those rumours with evidence that he's gathered. He's a know-it-all. The newspapers gobble up everything he says.

Out of respect for his constant war against the monster of my reputation, I try not to let my depression drag me down too much. He claims his sources consistently point to Veran Black, so I have someone to direct my anger at instead.

Veran Black, I'm told, isn't all clean herself, so why she insists on tarnishing my reputation makes me wonder. In her early thirties, with her beauty still intact, she invented herself a title and a fortune, thus ensnaring a good deal of rich men. Predictably, she divorced them all one after the other, stripping them of a few of their shares in the process. She then proceeded to elevate herself in the society rankings.

Link says that, though there is little proof for it, Veran Black could be a prominent figure in the underworld market. With her kind of money, he even says, it's a wonder she hasn't bought or invested in more lucrative systems. By this he means the underground systems.

I know it's not much of a shock to realise my country has an underworld. Every country in the Hylian Alliance does. But the fact that an underworld duchess is messing with my reputation pisses me off.

If she's against me, then clearly she's all for Ganondorf Dragmire, who is both a nutcase and a prominent threat to my country. If Ganondorf is aware of Veran, then that means he's got his finger on the pulse of the black market and cheating scum of this country.

Well, I don't have proof ―Link said she might be an underground princess, but it's not proven.

It still pisses me off.

Also, whether that bitch ―excuse my Zoran― is part of the under-realm or not doesn't change the fact that once ―if― I'm on the throne, I'll have a lot of tracking to do and changes to affect. Illegal underground activities shouldn't happen.

I'd bet a couple of paychecks that Ganondorf doesn't have _that_ in his plans.

Malon is trying to get Sheik to admit that he might want to kill me. I don't miss the teasing tone of her voice, nor do I miss Sheik's amusement.

Aw, great. She's hardly through the door and she already has a guy in her pocket, while I'm still struggling to determine if guys see me as anything but a queen-to-be.

This sucks.

I guess it helps that Malon has some previous knowledge of horses. That way, she and Sheik have stuff in common.

I don't even know what Link likes, let alone if we have anything in common. I mean, technically by now I would know about his hobbies or favourites. But I don't. It's like he deliberately keeps that info hidden from me. After all, he hardly has any days off, so Din forbid he'd spend them at the palace with me.

And because Link pretty much doesn't do anything but work whenever I see him, I don't even know what his favourite colour is.

You might say it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe it's better that way, even. I mean, a queen can't date her publicist. She has to date a lord, a duke, or even a software mogul, since this is a modern time. But not her publicist. He might be gorgeous and smart and kind, but obviously, he's too lowly, as the magazines would say.

Yes. It's better this way, not knowing him well. At least now, we can have a strictly business type of relationship.

What a waste, though.

"And tell me," Malon is asking Sheik, "How long will she have to stay on that horse? On Epona, that is."

Sheik takes his time to calculate. He always does because taking his time is his specialty, but this time around he does it with even more thought. This is to humour Malon, who apparently can't get enough of his casual fearlessness. "I'd say… roughly twenty minutes."

"Everything included?"

"Sure."

"Well, that's great news," Malon smiles as she glances at me. "Right?"

"Right," I answer her, giving her the opportunity to turn her attention back to Sheik, who manages to look patient and pleased at once.

Oh, yeah. He definitely prefers redheads.

And Malon would fall for any guy who knows stuff about horses. Talk about a fine match.

Let's hope this keeps her mind off of Link and my ―alleged― infatuation with him. Even though, you know. Fat chance.

"So, you've been training with Zelda how often?"

Sheik glances my way. When he sees that I'm not going to respond or steal his limelight, he answers, "Enough, I promise. She can handle whatever comes her way. You should have more faith in her."

"And you," Malon teases, "shouldn't have so much."

I let them talk as though I'm not there. Let them live it out.

I turn when I feel a nudge on my back. Epona. She must have felt a bit left out too. Horses are so perceptive sometimes. I smile.

"I'm going for a practice ride," I say to a slightly oblivious duo.

"Be careful," Sheik warns me absently, answering another of Malon's questions.

"Sure. Don't get into a brawl yourself," I answer back, trying to sit myself on the saddle as gracefully as possible. "I need you in one piece for the review."

"Okay," he says, but I know he didn't hear a word of what I said. "I'll do that."

He doesn't even look my way. He's too busy admiring Malon. It's a bit insulting, but it's kind of cute too. I hope it works out. She lives down south, after all. What will they do once they get children?

The thought makes me giggle to myself as Epona trots away slowly. Overhearing the sound, one of her ears turns back to listen. I love this mare. She's so adorable, with that cute stripe down her nose. I rub her collar fondly.

"So," I say out loud to Epona once we're well out of anyone's hearing range, "Epona. Any cute blonde stallions looked your way recently?"

Epona snorts at the sound of my voice. Gamely, I continue.

"Oh, me neither. That sucks. You're pretty enough, after all. But hey," I say, still as fondly, "don't worry. What do they know anyway? One day, you'll have a great mane day and they'll be all over you." I laugh. "You'll see. Tell you what. You'll probably get yourself a hot steed before I ever do."

Epona snorts again. I imagine that it sounds sympathetic. There's something incredibly therapeutic about speaking to an animal.

"One day," I say, "I might be queen. Creepy, huh?" This time, Epona doesn't make a sound. "I know. There's this guy, Ganondorf. He wants the throne instead. And another woman, Veran, who hates me for some reason." I sigh. "Both seem hell-bent on making my life miserable. It's like they don't realise I manage quite well on my own."

This time, Epona snorts.

"Don't try to make me feel better," I warn her, grinning. "It's bad enough that Link won't even tell me what his favourite colour is. I know," I say when she shakes her mane. "That didn't make much sense. Do you know Link?"

I grin when Epona shakes her head. You'd swear she knows what I'm talking about, though most likely, she's just shaking dust from her coat.

"He's my publicist. He's supposed to teach me a lot of things about being a queen and all. That's all fine, you know." I frown in thought. Epona is doing her usual walk around the corral, so I let her go where she pleases. "It's just," I continue, "he's also the kind of stud I'd have drooled over if he'd been prom king back in the days."

Epona snorts again.

"Don't make fun of me," I mumble. "Seriously. The guy is sex made man. It's unfair."

It's with those mindless thoughts that I spend the rest of the hour walking with Epona. She seems not to mind my voice, so whenever I speak, she seems to relax.

I come back in view of my start point, having done the loop around the training area, and I spot Sheik and Malon again, sitting on a bench, this time. I drop down from Epona's saddle, and immobilize the mare to ensure my presence won't be noticed. From my angle, it's not certain what they're doing.

I'd bet it's not in the nuns' rulebook, though.

Ah, finally, I realise. An occasion to blackmail Malon has arisen! She's always had the upper hand where embarrassing stuff was concerned. Maybe now she'll be careful.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to see Ruto's grinning face. Behind her is Anju, whose brows have risen on her forehead at the sight of Malon and Sheik sucking face. She comes level with us then stops, cocking her head to the side.

"That's interesting," she observes.

"Tell me about it," I grin.

Ruto smirks evilly. "At least we know she's in good hands." She turns to me, dragging my attention away from my riding instructor and my childhood friend's antics. "Anju and I came to warn you." Her smile is big and laughing, like she is about to tell me about a funny joke. I motion for her to go on. "We saw the Royal Guard's new uniform!"

Oh, great. Don't tell me the next half hour is going to be an editorial on fashion. Please.

Anju presses her lips together and Ruto seems ready to burst with laughter. Interesting. "What? What do they look like?" I finally break down and ask.

"Parrots!" Ruto exclaims, but then she levels her voice to ensure Malon and Sheik won't overhear us. "I swear," she assures me. "They have this bright blue uniform with purple threading and red pants and yellow sleeves. They wear a sort of hat with big green feathers! Their shoes are heeled with buckles! I've never seen anything that horrible! They look like cartoon toys!"

"What?" I blurt out, in disbelief. "You're joking. There's no way anyone would design something that awful."

"Apparently, someone has. I was on my way to ask permission to use a picture for a t-shirt," Anju calmly states.

"You can't promote that!" I breathe, eyes wide. "It's horrible!"

"You mean it's drop-dead hilarious," Ruto corrects me, laughing uncontrollably. "Think about it. Trying to keep your calm and grace and poise but having to review children movies' guards!"

"The stuff of nightmares," Anju says with a nod.

They're right. This could lead to a mess-up of a different sort. What if I can't hold in my laughter? I'd lose my credibility.

Then again, what else do they expect?

I ponder this right up to the moment when I appear in the courtyard before a mass of reporters. I'm wearing a comfortable riding gown embroidered at the sleeves and hem, and let me say, a lot of the male reporters seem to be letting their cameras click more than usual. How exciting. I seem to be getting rather popular.

I smile and wave politely.

Behind me, out of sight, Malon, Ruto and Anju are whispering encouragements, against Link's slightly exasperated comments, hooting under their breath, just enough for me to vaguely hear them. I refrain from giggling when I hear them whisper things like, 'Go get them, girl!' and 'I see a naked hobo!'

Thankfully, I consider as Sheik, dressed in official attire that looks singularly uncomfortable, brings up Epona, there is no naked hobo in sight. Sheik helps me up onto Epona's decorated saddle. I fall easily into place, thinking back to all the little tips he gave me. He pats the pommel where he tied the reins, and says, in a low voice, "You know the trajectory. There's nothing you can't handle."

I smile down at his serious face and murmur, "Thank you."

He backs off and shoots me a subtle, secret smile, and looks proud of me. He then steps ahead and, out of habit, Epona follows him. I remember to pull my shoulders back and take a deep breath. Ahead of me are the soldier ranks.

As Ruto and Anju warned me, the new uniforms are a complete catastrophe. Apparently, Sheik is also aware of this, because he sends a glance back at me, and his lips twitch upwards, as though he's trying hard not to laugh. I smile at him then look up at the―

Oh my Din, they all have bright red epaulets.

This has got to be a joke. A lot of the guards can hardly bring themselves to look at me, like they're too embarrassed to be recognized. I glance at the reporters, who aren't nearly this subdued. They're gleefully taking down notes and pointing and hiding their laughter.

You've got to be kidding.

They keep taking plenty of embarrassing photographs. As hilarious as the situation is, it could totally cast the palace and government into a negative shade. I can already imagine the titles. Princess Reviews Clowns. Fashion Sense Deserts Marcastle Staff. Royal Guard Carnival All Year Round!

Hyrule's 'Princess' Is Blind.

I can't have this happen. I stop Epona, and Sheik turns to look at me, wondering what's wrong. This seems to have caught everyone's attention, at least.

I shake my head and ask, looking around for someone to come forward with information, "Who in the world chose these uniforms?"

There's a good-humoured laugh from the journalists, and even the guards seem to lighten up. I'm still waiting for someone to answer me, so Sheik says, "I think it was the Hall of Ministers." He's doing his best not to show his extreme amusement.

I grimace, to the press' enjoyment. "But this is ridiculous." I motion vaguely at the many lines of guards. "Whoever thought this one up deserves to wear this thing all year round."

This earns me lots of approving hoots and a small round of applause. Lots of journalists are writing down notes eagerly, probably figuring out their headlines for tomorrow.

"They wanted to change old habits," Sheik says, detachedly, providing press feedback.

"What was wrong with the old uniform?" I ask. "It's like they're trying to make the government look like a bunch of colour-blind morons." Oops. I swear morons just slipped out involuntarily. The news people don't seem to care.

"It was the steward's idea," Sheik finally says, and I feel a shiver crawl up my spine.

Ganondorf Dragmire?

Well, I think, a bit smugly I'll admit, Ganondorf Dragmire just shot himself in the foot.

"I'll say," I blankly comment. "It seems to me as though Dragmire needs a lesson in fashion."

This causes an uproar of laughter. I can swear I heard someone in the throng exclaim, "Show 'em, Princess!"

I have this feeling like the headlines just shifted to something like, Princess Rightfully Defends Common Sense, or anything in that range. It can only be better than what it was before.

Suddenly, everyone quiets down, and I wonder why. Have they considered that I'm not that great after all? Oh, damn, what do I do now? Are they angry that I interrupted the ceremony or something?

That's just totally unfair. You'd think they'd be straightforward about this, but no. One minute they like it, the next they're gathering rocks to stone me? That's just not right.

Sheik clears his throat and looks beyond my shoulder. I turn in my saddle, causing Epona to stamp her foot impatiently.

Bugger, Ganondorf Dragmire is standing on the front balcony, with Link right behind him doing his best not to look annoyed. And the almighty steward is looking my way with something that can only be called cold disdain.

It's like I'm in a Western or something, with plenty of face-offs. I used to love Westerns, but it's like Ganondorf just ruined them for me.

"Mr. Dragmire," I politely greet him from across the courtyard, wondering why he's here. He wasn't supposed to appear. At least, it wasn't in the schedule. Whoa, it's like his very presence causes me no end of bad mood swings, like PMS, only without all the hyper sensibility.

I never liked PMS.

"Miss Harkinian," Ganondorf says. "What is the cause of today's complaint?"

Bastard, I think, refraining from sending him the vilest glare I can muster. I can see Link is doing the job quite fine without me. So instead, I answer, a lightly as possible, "I was wondering, actually, what possessed you to choose such a frightful outfit for our Royal Guards."

This causes supportive applause from the reporters, and even some smiles from the guards themselves. They all sober up when Ganondorf scans the crowd with a blank, severe stare.

Farore, I hate this man so much, for some reason.

"You disagree with this choice? I find it suits your eccentric behaviour. If you ever were to become queen―"

I interrupt him, which is technically very rude, but I figure I might as well keep an upper hand here, "― I wouldn't force the Royal Guard into a uniform that is so blatantly despicable just to upset an opponent."

There are some 'Ooh's all over the courtyard, with an intonation that clearly says 'She verbally dissed you, what can you say to that!' Even the guards are getting a bit animated to see who will win this face-off.

"I obviously didn't choose that uniform to destabilize anyone," Ganondorf says, rolling his eyes, as though he's thinking about how foolish I am.

I snort and glance at the feathered hats. With a grin, I say, "Well, you managed it anyway." I show the guards' faces, as they look unbelievably uncomfortable. "Congratulations."

I'm so glad that cameras are recording this. The laugher of the reporters tells me I'm rising quickly in their esteem. I'm completely aware that Ganondorf is in a no-win situation. He seems to realise it too, and if it puts him in an even fouler mood, it's completely worth it.

This is payback for our first meeting, bastard!

"Well," Ganondorf finally says, "if you feel so strongly about this, what do you suggest?"

"A poll," I say, grinning, and I turn to the Guards, who are still standing at attention. "All those in favour of the old uniform say 'Aye'!"

Ganondorf shakes his head and is about to protest when a unanimous, "Aye!" rings out in the courtyard, making me almost giggle in my seat. I turn back to him.

"I don't believe I heard any 'nays'." I even sweetly add, "What about you?"

To give the man credit, he keeps his stern look unwaveringly. "We are in a monarchical government. As steward of this country, I have the final word on everything."

Rauru, I love you so much, I think as I recall my managing lessons. "Not quite. Since you're not king, you have to pass all decisions through the ministers' hall first. I'm not that daft, please."

This seems to take Ganondorf by surprise, and his face will, most likely, also be in the news tomorrow. Or maybe even in this evening's news. He tries to catch himself.

"I never said you were," even though, you know, he clearly thinks it.

"Thank you," I say, kindly, never losing my smile. "But until either one of us becomes the ruler, the people still have a word to say."

Ganondorf looks sorely disgusted. "Indeed," he says, levelly.

"Well then," I say, "The guards have it." I turn to the grateful lines of Royal Guards and say, cheerfully, "You're free! Take off those silly hats!"

This earns me even more laughter and applause. When I turn back to the balcony, Ganondorf has vanished and Link is the only one still in sight.

And he's looking at me with obvious amusement and approval.

This is it, I think. I've done one more step in the right direction. I can become a queen, at this pace. It's actually just a matter of standing up to Ganondorf and proving that he's not all that.

And, as Ruto and Malon would claim, fashion sense wins the day, yet again!

I dismount from Epona with Sheik's help, and he leads her back towards the stables. The journalists are rushing my way, so I hurry to reach Link back on the balcony. Formally, I dismiss the guards, like Link showed me to do, waving at them gently and bowing my head. They snap to attention, hitting their heels together smartly, then walk away in an organized fashion, though they seem to be walking faster than usual.

They're probably eager to get out of that dumb uniform.

Hey, those guard trousers are actually pretty tight on their butts. Yum. Too bad they're losing the ugly uniform. To give it some credit, it emphasized their buttocks.

Oh well. For every win, there's a loss, I think to myself in amusement.

I answer a couple of trivial questions, until Link motions with a nod that I can safely return inside.

They close the doors a minute later, exactly.

Instantly, Malon rushes to me, squealing.

"Zellie! I'm so proud of you!"

"You whooped Dragmire's ass," Ruto agrees, with Anju smiling, behind her.

I glance at Link, but he's not looking my way. He's standing by the windows, looking out at the dissipating crowd of journalists. I wonder what's on his mind.

As if on cue, Malon, Ruto and Anju excuse themselves. I shoot them an exasperated look. What is this? First grade or something?

Still, once they're gone, I join Link's side and examine his face for any signs of what his thoughts are. I know they can't be all bad. He did look proud enough some moments ago.

We stay silent for what seems to me like an eternity.

Then, Link turns, and I'm no longer looking at his profile. Now, the light hits his face obliquely, making his blue eyes glow a bit. His blonde hair looks great with that light too. And let's not talk about his overall hotness. We'd never stop.

For all that is holy, this man is the bane of my existence.

I try to shake the thoughts that are currently plaguing me when I notice that his lips are slowly pulling upwards. Hm. Lips. I can think of a couple of things Link should be quite good at doing with his lips aside from smiling.

"Well?" I ask, managing by some sort of miracle to dissimulate my thoughts. "What did you think?"

Link just examines my face with a rapidly growing smile.

"To be honest," he says, glancing back outside, "I will remember and cherish the memory of today on my deathbed." He adds, solemnly, "It was almost sexy." I can't help but laugh. Link, now a bit more serious, says, "You're on the right path, and that's all there is to it." He brings a finger up to brush my cheek. "You're going to be a fantastic queen, Zelda."

With that, he drops his finger, smiles, and leaves me waiting for more. The bastard. One day I'll show him what happens when you get my hopes up and disappoint.

Oh, heck. I can't help but grin for the rest of the day.

* * *

**That's it for chapter 15.**

**OMG I paired Malon and Sheik together. Even though Sheik is just Zelda's disguise from _Ocarina of Time_. Big deal. I like both characters and the pairing makes sense in this universe. And I like it, so there.**

**As per Link's unnervingly mild attitude, yes, he just brushed his finger against her cheek! Shock and stupefaction! He obviously wants to jump her, doesn't he? More seriously, you gotta start somewhere, so that's one step in a certain direction.**

**Questions, commentaries or anguished screams must be sent by review or PM. ;p**

**See you next time,**

**Love,  
****CM**

**P.S. I lied about the blood, gore and character death. Hah!**


	16. Apprentice

**Sweet. New chapter. I'm a bit late, but I was uber busy. **

**So. Chapter 16. I kind of like it, though in terms of storyline, it doesn't move us forward much.**

**Or maybe it does...**

**Either way, we get the return of Kotake, which totally makes me giggle. Because she's a hilarious delusional old crone and everyone loves her. Plus, she totally loves scandals, so that's good for some comedy.**

**Warnings: Some** obvious innuendos**. But you know they're funny.**

**Only in Hyrule  
****"Apprentice"**

"Ganondorf Dragmire won't let you live this out without revenge," Rauru warns me. I'm too lazy to acknowledge what he said. It's day twenty of my stay in Marcastle and we're finishing up the third week. That leaves me with a little more than one week before the final decision and the coronation of either the aforementioned bastard ―Ganondorf― or myself.

The final decision is supposed to be announced in ten days, at a ball. Rauru is the one doing the announcements. Even though he's partial to me, he's going to be speaking for the whole of the ministers' cabinet.

And, as he is now currently warning me, winning those old fossils over isn't exactly a done deal.

"I'm absolutely serious, Zelda," he says. "He still has a lot of influence, and for the moment, the majority of the ministers consider that you might be a weaker ruler than Ganondorf."

"In spite of what I did two days ago?" I ask, sitting up, wondering why they're not counting the horrible uniforms thing.

"In spite of that, dear," Rauru sighs. "Showing fashion knowledge hardly demonstrates appropriate ruler abilities."

"Well," I mumble, "that's a real load of it. What do they want me to do, anyway?"

Rauru looks glad that I finally showed some interest in what he's saying. He sits back in his large chair, contemplating. "I assume Link has told you about the function tomorrow evening?"

"You assume rightly," I say. My morale is low enough. Link's been a bit distant ever since that moment by the window where he touched me for no reason. And, let me just say that moment has been haunting me since, with all the possible what-ifs and 'you're-so-dumb' thoughts that can come with it.

It doesn't help that the weather's been grey and rainy all day. It's so dark outside that I have this feeling like the sky's going to fall. All of the indoor lights are on. It's a strange atmosphere. Usually the big windows provide enough light until sundown, but today feels like the sun didn't come up at all.

"That function will be your occasion to rise in their esteem."

Oh. Great. Another occasion for me to screw up, I think.

Rauru seems to notice my mood, and says, sternly, in a tone he rarely uses, "You'll need to cheer up if you ever want to become the future queen, Zelda Harkinian."

I sit up. His tone doesn't leave room for argument. I'm not a rebellious type, so I'd rather obey him. Besides, it's not really his fault that Link is a weathervane that can't decide whether he likes me as friend or more and who can't decide if he wants to touch me or not.

"Sorry, Rauru," I mumble.

My prime minister smiles, fatherly again. "You've had a lot to deal with, but whatever it is that upsets you needs to come out." He waits for a moment while I debate telling him that I lust for my publicist who seems only too keen on making me sizzle. Before I can decide, he says, "You don't have to confide in me. Your friends are here, in Marcastle. And I know my granddaughter Tetra can also lend an ear if you ever need her support."

Oh. Yeah. They'd have a field day if they ever found out.

"Okay, Rauru," I finally settle for saying. "But it's not that big, you know. I'm just a bit…" I motion vaguely because I can't find a word that would fit in without sounding awkward.

Rauru isn't dumb. He knows what I'm doing. I can see he's about to reprimand me, but then he lets it go. He probably figured it's my problem, ultimately, and not his. Great.

"As I was saying," Rauru finally says, "this function tomorrow is your best bet where convincing the ministers is concerned. Link has told me you seem to have the people of Hyrule on your side…" If he noticed my expression get gloomy at the mention of Link, he doesn't mention it. "But if you want to convince the officials, it'll be done tomorrow."

"Got it," I say. I lean forward with a smile. "So, anything I might want to know about these ministers? What they like, what they don't like…" I raise a brow. "Anything Ganondorf Dragmire knows that I don't?"

Rauru smiles benevolently. "That's more like it," he says, nodding at my renewal of enthusiasm. "Tomorrow will be about political and social talk. The idea is to show the cabinet of ministers that you are as capable and knowledgeable as Ganondorf in all their fields, if not more."

This seems to me like a near impossible task. I feel it weigh down on my shoulders like certain death. To be even with Ganondorf, I'd need experience. I'd need confidence. I'd need years of practice. This isn't fair.

"I must mention," Rauru says, when he notices my gloom coming back with a vengeance, "that most of the ministers, though inclined to say Ganondorf might be a better ruler, also dislike him for personal reasons. You, on the other hand, are young, fresh, and cheerful. Most of the time, at least." He adds this last bit to make me smile, and it works.

"So I just have to look pretty and smart?" I ask.

"That, and you have to show them you care. Which is why I have brought a list of little harmless anecdotes about each minister. I should suggest you observe their pictures and learn their names, at the very least."

He hands me a thick document of about ten pages, written in fine print. I stare at it, goggle-eyed then look back up at his smiling, wrinkled face.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Absolutely not," Rauru says, with utmost seriousness. "I'm trying to give you years of experience before tomorrow night. This will require some study on your part. I can only give you the tools. You have to use them."

I leaf through the document and read things like, 'Was part of the military during the war in Subrosia and is now a complete pacifist', as well as stuff like, 'Divorced his first wife, then remarried, and now has three adult sons'.

This kind of information, on approximately forty ministers, spanning ten pages, seems impossible to remember in a little over twenty-four hours.

But guess what? Becoming the possible queen of Hyrule was impossible for me a month ago, and yet here I am, impossibly becoming the possible queen of Hyrule. So the notion of possibility tends to mess with me nowadays.

"Alright," I finally say, standing and getting ready to leave.

Let's prove that things like miracles actually can happen.

Rauru wishes me good luck. I grin at him. I think if I could handle Ruto's psychology books, I can handle this measly document without any trouble.

I return to my room, where Kotake is making my bed. Heavy rain is coating my windowpanes and making a regular pitter-patter. I greet her with a smile and settle on the couch to peruse the document comfortably.

There's a silence.

Kotake, with her bulgy eyes, seems shocked that, for once, she doesn't have to snap some sense into me. It had kind of become her unofficial role, and all. So she hobbles over to me and asks, "Forester tried to have it away with you, eh?"

I swear I almost choked on my own tongue. I turn to look at Kotake, who is obviously sniffing for a scandal.

"No!" I exclaim. "Link hasn't tried to have sex with me, Kotake. He never has, and he never will!" I do my best to keep the bitterness out of my voice and replace it with incredulity. I don't have to fake it much either.

Kotake laughs at me. Laughs! Like I said something incredibly funny!

"Poor girl," she says. "You think I don't know how it works? I've been through that too."

Okay. I am trying very hard not to picture Kotake getting it on with anyone. "Kotake," I say, trying to keep my patience, "Link and I are not an item. We are not having sex, and we have other priorities than that." Unfortunately.

"Is that what he told you? Bloody stinking liar, he is. He can't keep himself from it, and he has the gall to pretend."

"From what, Kotake?" I'll say… This might get interesting. "Can't keep himself from what?"

Kotake's brow rises high on her wrinkled forehead. She stares at me as though I'm particularly dumb. "Don't be stupid, girl." See? "The boy is madly in love with you."

I stare at her, feeling a bit elated for a breathless moment…

… Until I remember that Kotake likes making assumptions and spreading them and no one actually believes her, most of the time, because she often doesn't know what the heck she's talking about. Therefore, her announcement that Link loves me is pure invention and most likely not based on true facts, as is her assumption that he and I have been sleeping together.

Well. If I wasn't deflated before, I certainly am now.

"Thanks for the heads up, Kotake," I mumble, turning my attention back to the ten-page document again. "But I'd rather not draw any conclusions without hard evidence myself."

Kotake seems miffed by my lack of enthusiasm. She turns on her heel and hobbles back to her laundry basket, in which she dumped my old sheets, grumbling to herself, "The only hard evidence you'll get will be in his pants, and by then it'll be too late, girl."

I freeze, staring into space in disbelief. Please. Kotake did not just say that. Kotake did not just allude to anything pertaining to Link's…

I shake my head and close my eyes, trying not to think about Kotake anymore. I just wait in silence for her to leave my rooms, which she does with a certain amount of frustration. Her large laundry basket under the arm, she opens the door. I do my best to avoid looking at her, still struggling to forget that she just mentioned parts of Link that I would do well not to consider.

The rumble of thunder grumbles in the distance.

Ah, Nayru. Everything sucks.

"Hah!" I suddenly hear Kotake exclaim. "What was I saying?"

I turn, because she just went from a grumbling old harpy to a proud, self-righteous shrew. In the doorway, Link is looking down at Kotake with a curious but unknowing smile, wondering what the old hag is on about this time.

"I don't know," Link says. "What _were_ you saying, Kotake?"

He's wearing dark blue jeans with an un-tucked white t-shirt. There's a black silhouette of a rooster on the front, with words in bold above it saying 'Suck My'. Oh dear.

Kotake seems to notice the shirt as well, and is sniffing at it disapprovingly, looking over her shoulder to send me an eloquent look, like she's trying to convey that I'm obviously blind not to notice his undying love for me.

Except I fail to see what a t-shirt that says 'Suck My _Rooster_' can possibly convey aside from, well, an obvious command.

Don't blush, Zelda. He's an indecisive jerk. Just because he wears the kind of t-shirt you actually find hilarious doesn't mean…

"You can just ask the princess over there," Kotake says, sounding a bit wounded in her ego, and far more primly than she was a few minutes ago while she was talking about Link's…

All right, try to focus on something other than the front of Link's pants, Zelda.

Kotake leaves the room in a huff. Well, that'll teach me to show doubt of her insanities.

Link follows her with his eyes then turns back to shoot me an inquisitive, slightly disturbed look. I'm in trouble. I can't look in his eyes. I can't look at his shirt. I especially can't look at his pants.

I'll have to settle for his shoes.

"What was that about?" Link asks, amused, like he doesn't have any complex and painful love dilemma about me. Hah, big surprise there, Zellie. I try not to look too disappointed.

"She's convinced I'm going to need the preservatives in my bedside table," I mumble, choosing to turn my gaze back to Rauru's document because looking at Link's shoes is just weird and might cause him to realise I can't look his way without going redder than red.

Link is quiet for a moment, but when he speaks again, he sounds vaguely interested and amused. "Really? Need them with whom?"

You, I think to myself, but then I don't know that Link would be all that comfortable with that answer. So instead of the truth, I say, "I'm not sure."

Sorry for the dishonesty, Link. This is for both our sakes.

"Oh."

There's a long, awkward silence then. I wonder if maybe he sounds jealous or upset or just plain bored, and then I consider that such things are impossible to determine with just an 'oh', and therefore I'm clinically insane if I try to make assumptions.

Oh my Din. What if I become like Kotake? I'd die, for sure.

"I heard from Rauru that you had gotten the document with all the ministers' descriptions," Link finally says, as though he hasn't dwelled on the subject of my romantic affairs for more than a second. How not shocking. What else did I expect? He _doesn't love me_, so logically he _doesn't care_.

I hold the document up to prove the statement wordlessly. I'm still studying the first page. So many interruptions!

"I know this might sound annoying," he says, and I briefly wonder how a voice like his could be annoying, "but you're going to have to put off studying for just a little while more. There's a guest downstairs that I'd like you to meet."

Right. No avoiding this. I can't just say 'screw that guest; I need to study'. That's not very queenly.

So I stand, drop the file on my comfy couch then motion for him to lead the way. I walk towards him and the door, but he doesn't lead the way. He just stays in the doorway, looking at me weirdly.

Oh, damn. "Link…"

"Are you alright?" His dark blonde hair is all scraggly and sexy. His brow is furrowed in mild concern. Oh, for Farore's sake. This is so unfair.

Just don't drool, I remind myself. And don't look at his shirt.

"I'm fine," I say, though I hate how my voice comes out all squeaky.

"You're not coming down with a cold, I hope," he continues, ignoring my claim of being fine. The back of his hand comes to touch my forehead and to check that I'm not feverish. Well, if I wasn't before I certainly am now. His touch lingers a little longer than strictly necessary. With a serious look, he removes his hand and says, "You seem fine."

"I am fine," I repeat, this time with my voice less squeaky but a bit more uncertain.

Link nods, but for safety's sake, he says, "If you ever feel under the weather, make sure to tell me. We can't afford to have you sick at such a crucial time."

With that, he smiles briefly and turns on his heel to guide me downstairs.

I'd just like to say I hate myself. Of _course _he wouldn't care for me. He only cares for his job and making Ganondorf Dragmire's dream fail. I follow him sluggishly, berating myself for being so darn hopeful. This never would have happened if he hadn't been so good-looking. This is all Link's fault.

… Boy, am I in denial.

We reach the entrance hall, with the chandelier and everything. Every single light source is lit up to counter the gloomy, rainy day. It casts a warm glow to everything.

I notice that there's a lot of activity in the hall. Tetra's assistants are running around with plenty of boxes, chairs, and electric wires.

"They're setting up tomorrow's function," Link comments when he notices what I'm looking at.

I nod. It seems to me like it's their principal job or something.

Link turns his head and smiles cheerfully at something. I turn as well, and I see a large-shouldered, dark-skinned man with spiked hair and small, benevolent eyes. He looks remarkably like Darunia, actually, except that he has a major wound around his torso that a cast is covering. I wonder what happened to him.

Wait. I know this guy's face!

"Darmani Stonefist," Link says warmly, like he's greeting an old friend. "The famous stuntman from Termina."

"Link Forester," the man booms from across the hall upon seeing who called his name. "The infamous publicist from Hyrule. Oh, wait, who is this young lady?" His grin turns into a broad smile. "Could you by any chance be Zelda Harkinian?"

Wow. Link didn't even have to introduce me. Amazing. I smile and outstretch a hand carefully, hoping that he won't crush it. "That's me. Pleased to meet you. I saw your latest movie. _Goht_, right?"

Darmani shakes my hand, strongly but not painfully. At least he seems to have more mastery over his strength than Darunia does. "Yes, that's right. Great fun, that one."

I can't help but grin. I met my first movie star! How cool!

"Darmani is in Hyrule for a tour. We thought to invite him here, though, since a lot of the ministers enjoy his movies or want his autograph."

I stare at Link. "I beg your pardon?"

Link chuckles, seeing Darmani's grin grow. "Impossible, you might say. But it's true. Popular culture does woo ministers. Sometimes." Wait. That means I do stand a chance! I know more stuff about popular culture than Ganondorf does, for sure!

"That's amazing!" I gush. I turn to Darmani excitedly. "Can I have your autograph too?"

Darmani looks pleased and a bit embarrassed. Oh dear. I hope I didn't make him too uncomfortable. What do I know of Terminian customs?

But then, Darmani grins cheerfully. "Sure," he chuckles, and I'm relieved. "As long as I get yours."

It's my turn to be completely embarrassed. This is the first time anyone has ever asked for my autograph. I hardly know any politicians who do signings nowadays. They're not exactly popular people. Usually, only rock stars and movie stars actually sign autographs. I'm neither, so it's a weird feeling.

Darmani takes out a small notepad with a pen and writes down, 'To the prettiest girl in Hyrule, from Darmani Stonefist'. He tears the page cleanly, and hands it to me. I laugh out loud, but then I notice a logo on the piece of paper in my hand.

"Goronade?" I say, squinting to read the fine print.

Darmani looks proud. "It's my soda company." He shoots me a knowing grin. "Best darn soda in all of the Hylian Alliance."

Really? This makes me extremely uncomfortable. I have no clue what Goronade is. It wasn't anywhere I could see. There was none in Lakeside and there doesn't seem to be any in Marcastle. Great. This is going to cause a diplomatic scene. I glance at Link, who seems to expect me to say something. Damn it.

Well, hey, it's not my fault that a certain kind of soda hasn't been distributed over borders, after all. I settle for the truth. "Um," I hesitate, "I've never seen Goronade before." I say this as honestly and apologetically as possible.

"That's not surprising," Darmani laughs, waving it off without worry. "I'm here partly to promote it outside Termina." This makes me impossibly relieved. He may claim it's the best in the Hylian Alliance, but it's not like he _spread_ it. I tell you. Promoters.

Darmani even adds, "Want to taste it?"

I glance at Link, who specifies, "Goronade's an energy drink. It keeps you awake."

Oh. Hey, that's a whole other story. "I could use something like that," I say to Darmani. "I have plenty of studying to do."

Darmani looks excited, but then Link cuts in.

"I think it's best if she just gets a taste of it, and not a whole twelve-pack, alright Darmani?"

As Darmani sighs his agreement and retreats back outside in the rain, presumably to fetch the drinks in his car or something, I ask Link, "Hey, I need those drinks, you know. If you want me to be all smart and stuff tomorrow evening."

Link uses his best no-nonsense face on me. Obviously, I'm _this_ close to melting. "Energy drinks don't enhance your ability to focus. They give you energy to spend and make you hyperactive. They often lower your awareness. On top of that, a good night's sleep is far more beneficial to a proper use of your memory than any all-nighter."

Whoa. He really does know everything. It's kind of… hot.

Oh, hey, enough, Zellie. You're supposed to find this pretentious and annoying. You're supposed to be frustrated that he has a hand in every decision you make. You should rebel against the unhealthy authority he has over you!

"I suppose you're right," I mumble.

Bugger.

Darmani returns with his drinks. I grin at the logo. It's a cute little smiling icon. He hands one to Link, then takes one for himself. We raise our cans and quietly toast. Then, I take a careful sip under Darmani and Link's gazes.

Hm. This thing tastes like minerals. And it's very sweet and a tad spicy. How strange. It's not completely unpleasant, though.

"Not bad," I finally comment after my first mouthful. "I kind of like it."

"Kind of?" Darmani repeats good-humouredly, taking a big mouthful of his own drink. Link follows his example quietly. Maybe the weather is affecting him too.

"Well," I say, as diplomatically as possible, "it would sell well."

"That's also what I thought," Darmani says. "That's why I'm here. It's a pretty big thing in Termina. I think there might be a market here and in Calatia for the drink."

"You should try the whole Hylian Alliance," I comment, taking another sip.

Darmani looks flattered. "Aw, thanks, Princess." I laugh. "Princess," Darmani nods to himself. "That's good. Now, could you please give me your autograph?" He hands me his notepad and a pen, and says, "Write 'To my biggest and most loyal fan, Darmani Stonefist, with love, Zelda Harkinian'."

I giggle and write that, word for word. So what if he's a bit eccentric? At least he has a sense of humour.

Kind of like Link's rooster t-shirt.

Don't think about that.

I hand the notepad back to Darmani. He re-reads it with a broad grin. I finish my can. I do feel something warming me up. It seems like Darmani's drink is pretty efficient where keeping people awake is concerned.

Link seems to find this too. He looks slightly more perked up than he was ten minutes ago. Of course, now that his eyes are open a bit wider, I can see that the chandelier is making them glow…

Why can't I seem to focus anymore? This sucks.

Link seems to notice my suddenly sullen look, because he says, "Before you get too moody, I think you should get back to studying."

I glare at him. "Thanks for that."

Link looks sympathetic. "Look, study well until eight tonight, then let it rest until tomorrow morning, alright?" He seems a bit helpless, but then he adds, "If you want, I'll help you then."

"You'd help me?" I repeat, unable to keep the strong pang of gratitude and hope out of my voice. Link looks like he can't believe making me happy is so simple.

Darmani, on his part, seems to find this terribly amusing. He laughs until someone calls him from the door. I think it's like his press-attaché or something. Reluctantly, he pats Link's shoulder and says, "See you, man."

Link nods, shaking Darmani's hand. Hey, why are they so familiar with each other?

Darmani turns to me then bows as a joke. "Princess." I reach out with a laugh to shake his hand but he merely holds it and says, "Take care of him. It'd be a pity for my ex-counsellor to die of stress." Ah. Well. That explains that. "We'll see each other at the coronation, your Highness. I hope you kick Dragmire's butt like I kicked Goht's in my last movie. It's not like you don't have the charm to do so."

He glances one last time at Link, who hasn't said a word, then heads out towards the door. I feel sympathy for him when I see the downpour outside. He doesn't seem to mind much, though.

And so starts a whole evening of study. The next morning, I wake up to a sunny day with the names and faces of forty ministers all organized in my head and one single thought amidst it all. It hits me the moment I gain full-consciousness, and it fills me with impossible anguish.

I blame Link, of course. If I had just taken all the Goronade and not slept it through like he suggested, I wouldn't have been able to think logically last night and so I wouldn't have come to this horrifying conclusion that is sure to make my world a living hell from now on.

That is, I think Link Forester might be the one for me.

And, when he enters my room later on that morning to test my impossibly organized memory, all I can think is…

I am so screwed.

* * *

**Some precisions: Goht is the second boss from _Majora's Mask_, and you have to defeat him while wearing the Goron mask, which is basically Darmani the Third's essence.**

**Goronade is an energy drink from _Oracle of Ages_.**

**Note aside, I wonder how many times Zelda will say something along the lines of 'I am so screwed' before the story ends. She seems to think it a lot. XD**

**Oh, and by the way, you're probably going to like the next chapter, people. Even though it's not extremely joyous.**

**Love,  
CM**


	17. Socialite

**Many apologies for the long delay! I was (and still am) crazy busy. I am consequently slowing down a bit on the releases. Hope you forgive me. It's not like I stopped writing this or anything, so there's nothing to be worried about. Plus, by the time Twilight Princess comes around, we'll all be dancing and jumping with joy.**

**Need I mention that we've passed the 10k hits already? By... a margin of nearly 900 hits? Need I repeat once again how much I love you people? Yes?**

**I love you people!**

**That said, I can sense that some people will get swirly eyed at the amount of information put in this single chapter. Don't worry! You don't have to remember all this information! I promise! You'll be just fine if you just accept that there's a lot of info, and I'll take you along the story anyway, and you won't have any trouble. Promise!**

**Please enjoy.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Socialite" **

Of course, I consider, as I exit my room and see him all dressed up for the function, Link just had to look like sin. He just had to have that tux with that red bowtie and he just had to have gelled his dark blonde hair just right so that it looks stylishly dishevelled.

He just had to have those perfect shiny black leather shoes and he just had to have shaved his stubble so that his face looked like a model's straight off a magazine.

He just had to have that pale red carnation on his lapel. Malon had once told me that pale red meant admiration. How fitting, considering that he would probably be the least titled amongst the people here tonight and therefore would want to express, in a subtle way, his respect for the ministers.

It's so hard to imagine that he's the same guy as the one who wears 'Suck My _Rooster_' t-shirts on normal days.

Link smiles at me, and eventually says, "That dress looks beautiful on you."

I look down at myself and smile. "Thank you." I can't say I look half-bad, actually. Tetra ordered this dress from a renowned seamstress in Marcastle called Maple. She actually comes from Holodrum, and started a shop in Hyrule. She apparently wants to build up a name before heading into the Calatian fashion market.

She made a dress especially for tonight, with the right measurements. It's a simple ivory thing with pink embroidery. There's a sheet of gauzy soft material to cover my shoulders, but the dress is otherwise simple and cute.

Plus, it's cut aslant, so you can see up to my knee. Since Sheik has started training me, my legs have become rather sexy, so I like the cut. It's sophisticated without being vulgar.

Coupled with heels I can't walk in, I think I look rather fantastic.

Link seems to have noticed it. He doesn't say anything, though. He just offers me his arm with an appreciative look.

"Ready?"

I suck in a breath to calm myself. Malon, Ruto and Anju aren't in the palace today. They spent all day outside of the palace grounds to keep out of the function preparations. I don't blame them. It was hectic, getting everything ready. I didn't even see Tetra all day. She was too busy managing everything. I know she's going to be there, but as Rauru's assistant, so I won't be able to talk with her much.

Link is going to be my assistant for tonight. He's going to be my backup if I forget a minister's name or anything else, like a live, sexy notebook. I put my hand on his arm and breathe, "Ready."

We walk to the lobby balcony, from the second floor. The idea is for me to make my entrance by descending the winding staircase there.

When we arrive at the balcony, I look down and see a mass of men and women, the majority of which are the ministers and their halves. I recognise some faces and struggle to recall their names.

"Don't focus on their identities for now," Link softly recommends and we walk to the stairs. Everyone seems to be looking our way. I've never felt so scrutinized before.

This is essential to my success, I consider.

I think I'm grateful that Link was near me all along, because I probably would have tripped and fallen a couple of times on those stairs. His arm was there the whole time, and he didn't seem to mind that I'd sometimes grip him a bit tighter to keep my balance. Bloody heels.

It was kind of hard not to notice that his sleeve was warm under my palm, too.

When we finally reach the ground floor, he seems to relax. He carefully drops his arm, and I try not to mourn the loss of his comforting warmth. I know his role, though. From this moment on, he just has to stay close by and observe everything I do, ready to step in if I ever need his help.

And thus starts the most mind-straining exercise I ever had to do. Forget algebra in college. This is ten times more complex.

Many men come forward with their spouses, and I have to greet them by their names and greet their wives once they're presented to me. I have to smile and look at ease while talking about each minister's little quirks.

For instance, Mr. Bagu owns a riverboat worth a million rupees at least on which he spends almost every vacation he has. Mr. Aginah is one of the co-writers of the Book of Mudora Translation Table, which I studied during High School. Mr. Abe once owned a pig, which he took to every cabinet meeting. It died because his wife overfed it. Mr. Baito once helped the construction of the multi-levelled airport in Roost Island, since he first studied in engineering. Mr. Bipin is a young father who had the ministers' cabinet vote a name for his first child!

Then, there's Mr. Bremor, who was a punk in his younger years, but who later grew strong by involving himself in the poultry industry. He eventually associated himself with Mr. Cojiro, a biologist who developed a rare species of Blue Cuckoos, when they were introduced to each other upon Mr. Cojiro's nomination as minister. There's Mr. Butler, a hardly expressive man who, sadly, lost his son three years ago. The blow was near impossible for him to bear. They say he and his son loved racing, but now Mr. Butler just isn't the same anymore.

There's Mr. Carlov, who was once a sculptor of great renown but who, unexpectedly, turned to politics ten years ago. Beside him is Mr. Dekadin, a man whose idea of fun is sitting in a quiet room and staring into space. They say he sometimes suffers from clinical depression, but apparently if you tell him a good joke, he perks up and shows good spirit.

In the back, talking to Mr. Troy, a minister who was once a leading biologist in all things wildlife, is Doctor Bandam, a man who once discovered a healing method relying on natural animal secretions. It's kind of gross, if you think about it, but it seems to have made his fortune.

In a corner is Mr. Error, a quiet man who speaks as though his native language disappeared long ago. It's a bit weird, but once you get used to it, you find out he's pretty smart and cool. Next to him, observing everything quietly, is Mr. Fishman, a man who seems to know a little bit about everything and anything. It's fun, since he can teach you the weirdest, most mundane things.

In the middle of the room, talking animatedly, are three ministers whose wives seem vaguely uninterested by their antics. They're Mr. Gummy, Mr. Kane and Mr. Loot, who upon discovering that they all liked sailing, formed a club of sailors that seems like good fun. The thing is, they often leave their wives home because they get seasick. I offer my sympathies to those poor women, and still converse amiably with the three sailors.

Listening intently next to the group are Mr. Garrickson and Mr. Gossack. Mr. Garrickson is the kind who refuses the arrival of new technology and insists on writing and posting letters instead of using the net. Mr. Gossack, on his part, seems like the scared type. The barest noise or someone initiating a conversation with him startles him. I wonder why he's so jumpy, but whatever.

Against a wall is Mr. Guru-Guru, a man said to be slightly insane but who nevertheless enjoys good music. They say he was once an orchestra leader, but retired because he had strange mood swings.

I lean towards Link as we step away from Mr. Guru-Guru and whisper, "It's reassuring to consider he's now a minister."

Link smirks, leaning towards me and saying, "You're doing good. I didn't even have to come forward."

"Thanks. It's because I studied well," I smile.

The whirlwind continues as I meet a giant, muscled man and a tiny, thin other. They're Mr. Gabora and Mr. Zubora, two men who were chosen as ministers for no apparent reason. Before that, they were leading tycoons in the metallurgy industry. Maybe that's why. Hidden in their shadow is Mr. Kamaro, an old, sickly pale man who apparently was a fabulous classic dancer in his time. Ever since he founded his dance school, he's been educating younger generations in the art. He's a bit strange and talks like a poet, but otherwise, he's nice enough.

There's a young man next to him who looks tired and a bit down. He's Mr. Kamo. They say he's only happy when he's talking about astronomy, so to humour him, I ask him which moon he finds prettiest, full or new? This gets him excited and we discuss astronomy for a while, before Link has to come forward and excuse me, explaining that I still have to talk to a few others. Still, Mr. Kamo looks like he feels a bit better.

As Link and I stroll in the crowd, Mr. Patch, Mr. Pippin and Mr. Rafton accost us. Mr. Patch was once in the roofing industry. Mr. Pippin is still in the farming industry. He's one of the biggest owners of land in Hyrule. Mr. Rafton was part of the construction industry. Now, he's focusing all his energy on the government. I make small talk with them. They seem excited to finally meet me. I'm flattered.

I walk on to find Mr. Kreeb, Mr. Sam and Mr. Tokkey. Mr. Kreeb was the owner of an amusement park before he sold it. Mr. Sam, for all I know, has always been in politics. Mr. Tokkey is a part-time composer. They're all calmly discussing various events. They seem like a bunch of pretty normal and somewhat boring ministers.

I can see Mr. Salvatore, a bored looking man with, they say, personality issues. I don't linger around him for very long, since I notice that two ministers are arguing rather loudly. I notice Mr. Orca and Mr. Sturgeon debating which of the military force or the education system deserve more funds. I step in to try and settle the dispute, but a calm hand settles on my shoulder and I turn to see Mr. Keaton, a fox-like, thin man with exotic features, who calmly suggests that I don't get involved.

Mr. Lenzo, a journalist that recycled himself in politics, joins him. He too looks wise and cultured. It probably comes from being a journalist. They engage in a philosophical conversation that frankly doesn't interest me, so I move on.

Another debate is going on between Mr. Mutoh, a former architect, and Mr. Viscen, the minister of national security, regarding the pertinence of industrial development in remote regions. I listen curiously, because I'm interested in the subject. When they notice my presence, they greet me vaguely then return to their debate.

I don't get to hear the conclusion of it because I notice Mr. Sokra, a philosopher who became a politician to make a difference in the world, and Mr. Sahasrahla, the eldest of the ministers. They're both wise men that I admire greatly. I step forward to introduce myself, but then the only other minister I hadn't seen, Mr. Sakon, steps forward and engulfs my hand in his cheerfully.

I don't know if I like this guy much. He seems like a shady fellow. He looks way too happy to see me. Still, I stay polite. His vote in my favour could be pivotal in my ascension to the throne.

Mr. Sakon leans forward and says, with an eloquent look, "That dress looks wonderful on you."

Somehow, this doesn't make me nearly as tingly as when Link said it.

"Thank you," I answer him, smiling prettily. "That's very kind of you to say."

Mr. Sakon just keeps holding my hand, smiling, without another word. I clear my throat and try to extricate my hand from his, but he holds onto it firmly. What the heck is he doing?

"Ah," Sakon finally says, "here they come."

I turn to look in the direction he's smiling at. And I feel my blood run cold.

In the doorway, wearing a classy tuxedo that enhances his large shoulders, is Ganondorf Dragmire. He's talking with Rauru, a serious look on his face. I glance beside Rauru and see Tetra's less than smiling look. She's on Ralph arm.

Ralph, on his part, doesn't look nearly as concerned. He glances across the room and grins at me. The sight of his smile makes some of my dread go away. Obviously, Ganondorf wouldn't try to harm anyone tonight. That'd be like political and legal suicide.

On Ganondorf's arm is a slinky, dark haired, pale-skinned woman. Her features are sharp and unforgiving, though they still retain a sort of fatal beauty that seems to freeze the air around her.

I feel Link breaking in between Sakon and I. I look up at him gratefully, but he hardly glances at me. In a very serious tone, he whispers, "That's Veran Black."

What??

I look back at Ganondorf Dragmire and Veran Black, feeling the pieces fall together. So it seems Ganondorf has been using his girlfriend to destroy me. How lovely.

"Behind him…" Link starts, but then Sakon tries to reach for me again. I see him place a hand on Sakon's shoulder and shove him off gently with a deadly glare. If Sakon hadn't gotten the message before, he certainly got it now. Link's glare is scary.

"Behind him," he continues as though he hadn't been interrupted, "are Agahnim Veils and Onox Gorgon, his two closest allies. I wouldn't say they're friends with Ganondorf, but they feed off his power."

I examine the two men in question. Agahnim Veils is clearly the oldest of the foursome. He's a wrinkled man with a hooknose and cruel eyes. His clean clothes are more ample than necessary, as though he's trying to hide his true size. He seems to consider the room with the utmost contempt. I immediately detest him.

Onox Gorgon, on his part, looks quieter, like he hasn't got the brains of the team. He's more like the muscle power of it. And it's not surprising. He's a towering, massive, square-jawed man with epaulets and a build that would make even Darunia look like a toothpick. The sight of him fills me with uncertainty. He seems to cast the whole room in his shadow.

The forty ministers, noticing the new arrivals, don't seem overly concerned. They're probably used to Ganondorf, Veran, Agahnim and Onox by now.

But I'm not. I take a deep breath when Ganondorf scans the crowd and finally settles his dark, piercing gaze on me. I do my best not to avert my eyes, but it's hard. He commands a certain presence… If I ever had any hopes of winning some votes over, it's like he just dashed them all.

Link too seems to hold Ganondorf's gaze. I appreciate his support, because I don't know how I would have done alone.

Beside Ganondorf is the bitch who made up false rumours about me. Eventually, Veran notices me and sends me a cold, bone-chilling smile, like she knows what she has done to me and feels no regrets. She even reaches for Ganondorf's arm, but he just brushes her off.

I notice something in Veran's eyes, then. Hurt mixed with hatred.

It hits me like a ton of bricks. Veran is in love with Ganondorf. She's doing his bidding in hope that he'll glance her way. But, as I can clearly see when he just strides away from her, he hardly cares. He just uses her devotion to his advantage.

A pang of sympathy comes over me, but then she turns and glares at me like it's my fault, and any form of compassion I felt vanishes. I hate her.

Link places his hand on my arm. I can see Ganondorf walked away from Rauru, who seems relieved to be released of that pressure, and is coming straight for me. My first instinct is to run like a prey about to be trapped, but Link's hand reassures me, somehow, and keeps me steady when I feel like wavering.

Ganondorf stops in front of me, smiling as pleasantly as a monster can. I just stare up at him, doing my best to seem confident. Rauru's words echo in my head. Ganondorf Dragmire won't let me live my victories out.

"Miss Nohansen," he says, faking courtesy. I hate when he calls me that. "How wonderful to meet you again." He gives me a once over. "Lovely dress."

"Thank you," I answer him, just as pleasantly. The tension is almost tangible. "Lovely tux." At least he has fashion sense for himself, if not for the Royal Guard.

"I know," he says, still courteous.

All right. This small talk is killing me.

Link's hand has dropped to my back, but I feel his heat scalding me through the fabric of my dress. It's both reassuring and alarming. Ganondorf seems to notice this. With a broader smile, he says, in Link's direction, "Why, Mr. Forester. Fancy meeting you here. Did you get promoted, by any chance?"

I hate this man so much. Like Link needs a promotion to mingle with the great ones!

"No," Link answers, coldly. "I'm here to ensure everything goes well." Not a complete lie, although he's not overseeing everything: just me.

Ganondorf Dragmire smiles. "And that implies following the little princess around like a dog?"

I can see that Link is doing his best to stand his ground, but the attack clearly got to him. "I'm just doing my job." He says this venomously.

Ganondorf knows exactly what Link is trying to do. I can see it in his eyes. But he doesn't let Link evade the attacks. He says, "I fail to see how Miss Nohansen might want a helpless publicist trailing her everywhere. It doesn't exactly make her seem independent."

Son of a…

I expect Link to retort to that, but he doesn't. I notice we're attracting a lot of the surrounding attention. If I'm not careful and if Link doesn't mind his words, we could become the bad people here, getting into arguments and all that…

Why isn't Link saying something?

I turn to look at Link, and he's just staring stonily at Ganondorf like he's never hated something or someone more in his whole life. I don't like that look.

I turn back to say, to Ganondorf, "Must you be so unpleasant?"

I think neither Ganondorf nor any of the ministers and their wives expected me to be so upfront about Ganondorf's behaviour. They look amongst themselves, shocked that I would bring this up so simply. I guess by now they were all so used to having Ganondorf comment hypocritically like that, so in a way my blunt question might seem either tactless or extremely courageous.

Either way, I can't back out now. "It's not enough having your date spread false and cruel rumours about me, you also have to come up straight to my publicist and try to down tune how patient and kind he is?"

Ganondorf doesn't answer me directly. Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. "I do suppose people have to be patient to deal with you."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, please. I heard better comebacks during my grade school years." And it's true, and it shows.

Dragmire laughs, leaning forward. "Really? And where did you study anyway?"

I smile right back, defiantly. "Lakeside elementary, high and college. And let me assure you, once I've lived through that hell, even a tall, dark, power-hungry politician won't faze me."

There are gasps all around the room. I don't think anyone expected Ganondorf to be rebuked like this. Well, screw it. I'm not going to let him step all over me or anyone else.

"Power-hungry?" Ganondorf repeats quietly, looking less and less pleasant. "I see," he says. "And tell me, did you ever go to university?"

This is my weakness and he knows it. What sort of queen hasn't been to university?

"I didn't have the money to," I admit. All around the room, people have grown silent. "I wasn't born with riches in my pockets." I feel like I'm defending myself now. Before, I was on an attacking stance, now, he flipped it around and is holding a metaphorical knife to my throat. "All my life I struggled to make enough money to live somewhat comfortably."

"So that's why you're here?" Ganondorf exclaims, and I see he knows he won. He knows that there is nothing I can say to his next argument. "You're here because you just want the money?"

Veran, Agahnim and Onox begin to laugh. I feel terror fill my every vein, because there is no proof of the contrary, even though it's a lie. I'm stuck without an alibi.

"She's here because she's Nohansen's daughter," Link quietly but sternly says, breaking in. His voice next to me is surprising. I had expected him to stay quiet after Ganondorf's rebuttal, which is why I'd taken up both our defences. But now, hearing him come to my rescue is one of the most comforting things that ever happened to me. His voice is gentle, but he clearly won't let Ganondorf win. "If we're to judge from lineage, she has more reason to be queen than you have to be king."

This causes even more gasps. I look at Link sharply, thinking that maybe that was out of place, but he just stares at Ganondorf Dragmire, not meeting my eyes.

There's something kind of heroic about Link that makes me want to rely on him completely. Obviously, Ganondorf doesn't see Link's heroism. He just scoffs and gives me a disdainful look, the kind Veran uses. I can sort of see why she likes him: he reminds her of herself.

Hah. I'm so funny.

"Lineage does nothing for the country if you don't have the education and strength it takes to rule it," he says, loudly, as though he's trying to end my case.

I want to retort, but Link's fingers press into my lower back in warning. He wants to answer Dragmire. He was expecting it. He knows what to say.

I trust him.

"Zelda Harkinian is strong," he affirms without a single doubt in his voice. "She knows what she wants, she is fierce about defending what and whom she cares for." His eyes go narrow. "And, frankly, I would rather have a woman who paid for most of her lessons in life than a man who learned to read with a book lined with his father's rupees." His gaze hardens. "She knows better than any of us what flaws this country has, and she has the heart to make a difference. Don't assume your diplomas are worth more. A piece of paper has nothing on wisdom."

There's a long silence. Ganondorf obviously sees that he can't say anything heartless about my past, no matter how much he wants to, because that would make him lose the debate through sheer cruelty.

I expect someone to say something, anything, but the silence stretches. And then, I hear Ralph.

"Nicely said," he grins from across the room. Beside him, Tetra rolls her eyes.

This seems to make the whole room relax. Great, there's another reason for me to thank Ralph Ambi.

I also notice Rauru is standing by Ezlo Picori and Kaepora Gaebora, who must have appeared at some point during the argument. The three of them are smiling benevolently in my direction.

But a lot of other ministers and wives are looking at me with untrusting eyes, like I was the one who started the argument with Ganondorf or something.

It's so unfair.

Suddenly, out of the crowd, I see Sahasrahla coming forward. He's tired and bent with old age, with a long white beard and thick white brows, so that his squinting eyes are hardly visible. The guy basically spells out 'wisdom'.

"The young man," he says with a shaky, old voice that still catches everyone's attention, "has a point. It is not the number of years that counts, but the quality of those years. And yet," Sahasrahla says when I joyfully start to think that he's on my side, "there is something to be said for experience."

Wait. Whose side is he on?

Ganondorf Dragmire seems to find the whole conversation has taken a ridiculous turn. He scoffs at Sahasrahla and says, "We'll have to see in the end who is more apt at governing a country."

"So we shall," Sahasrahla confirms, peacefully, like he hasn't taken sides at all and is simply breaking up any further argument.

It's a bit frustrating, but I'm grateful to him. Sure, Dragmire obviously resents me, but at least he and Link won't get into a fistfight.

Speaking of Link, as he watches Ganondorf walk away, I notice that he still looks sullen, despite the draw outcome of our most recent face-off with Dragmire. I mean, okay, it's not a victory, but at least it's not a defeat.

Link leans towards me, and I notice that his hand isn't on my lower back anymore. Without looking in my eyes, he whispers, "I'm sorry for that. I should have warned you they'd be here."

I can't believe he's apologizing for this. "It's alright," I answer him. "It's not your fault."

"I should have warned you," Link insists, scanning the crowd like he can't look at me directly.

I, on the other hand, have no trouble looking straight at him. "Link, don't be stupid. You're not the one who started this argument. We just defended ourselves."

This time, he looks up and his blue eyes meet mine. Around us, a couple of people have overheard me and seem to realise that I just said the truth as it is. We really were just defending ourselves from Ganondorf. Still, Link says, "He used me to make you look less experienced."

For a moment, I don't understand what he's getting at. And then, I realise it. Link feels guilty. He thinks the argument today was his fault. He thinks it ruined my chances.

This is absurd.

"He'd have attacked me anyway, with or without you. Except…" I try my best to express my gratitude, "if you hadn't been there, I might have lost the argument."

Actually, I would have lost without a doubt, but if people are listening to us, it's best to pretend. Link seems to contemplate this in silence. For a long time we just look at each other.

Then, he finally says, in a low voice so that only I can hear him, "You and I are never going to allow this again."

I can't help a smile, and we seal the deal with friendly nods.

"You got that right," I agree.

Never again will Ganondorf mess with us. We're going to crash his party with all the possible fireworks. He won't know what hit him.

But, oh, is he going to get what's coming to him.

* * *

**Ooh, notice the progression? "Friendly nods"! Link and Zelda have become friends, at the very least. Dearie me.**

**They're gonna need to be, with Ganny, Veran, Onox and Agahnim in the picture and all.**

**Oh, and don't be bitter that Link wasn't overly appreciative of Zelda's looks in this chapter. I found to my dismay that one can look like a million bucks and still not be acknowledged in a very open display of awe by one's male heterosexual peers, so I certainly wasn't about to have Link be showy about anything when all along he's been doing such an impressive job at keeping his thoughts carefully hidden. After all, we're seeing this through Zelda's eyes, not Link's. You'll have to be patient to find out more about Link's opinions. Heehee. You won't be disappointed.**

**In other news, you DON'T have to learn the names and particularities of the forty ministers, people. Seriously. They were just there to illustrate how much Zelda had to learn. I won't put you through it anymore!**

**By the way, none of those names were invented. You can check them out at ZeldaLegends' wiki. I encourage you to do so. It'll allow you to find out more about the games, and it'll make you smile to see the relations between the games and OiH. There are just too many to name them all here.**

**I will, however, comment on the subject of Maple. She's the witch-in-training from _Oracle of Seasons_, I think. In this story, she's a gown fashion designer. She'll be in a couple more references in the upcoming chapters, so don't be surprised.**

**I think I covered it all. Review if you dare.**

**Love,  
CM**


	18. Mannequin

**So this is chapter 18. I know I used to update twice a week in the beginning, but now I'm lucky if I have time to post once a week. I'm sorry, really, but I figure a chapter per week is still a pretty good speed, considering how much time goes into writing each chapter.**

**This chapter is the one many people have been waiting for. I hope it doesn't let you down, because... Well, you'll see.**

**Read on.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Mannequin"**

I'd like to pretend that I'm a stunning type of beauty, but it's always best not to delude myself and just accept facts as they are: I'm a pretty girl with features some women might envy, but that doesn't make me a top model.

Still, I think every woman should have at least one day in their lives where they get fixed up, made up, dressed up, all professionally. It's a real good therapy for any self-doubts.

Also, if you can have an audience, it's all the better.

"What time is it?" I mumble a bit awkwardly as Tatl Rees, a young platinum blonde haired and golden skinned make-up artist I met no earlier than three hours ago when it was still night outside, applies eye-liner to my upper eyelid.

It has always been a mystery to me how applying make-up to one's eye impedes on the speech pattern. Am I the only one who is unable to apply eyeliner without my mouth hanging half open? I can't be.

Tatl hardly glances at her wristwatch then returns to her artistic task. "Eight twenty-six."

Lovely. I try not to slouch in my chair.

A young man comes in the room. He looks a lot like Tatl, but his hair is black with purple dyed tips. I gathered, two hours ago, that Tael Rees was Tatl's younger brother. He looks exasperated that Tatl still hasn't finished her work.

"Come on, sis'," he whines, a bit childishly, "I've waited an hour now. Get it over with. I have to put in the finishing touches to her hair."

The two are from Termina, I also learned. They came to Hyrule to accompany the Godly Trio, as everyone calls Din Seasons, Nayru Ages and Farore Secrets, on their world fashion tour. They're talented and creative, but can't seem to keep from bickering.

"I'm trying to finish up," Tatl says, exasperatedly. "Can't you see? Stop interrupting me."

I kind of get Tael's point, though. I've been sitting in this chair getting my nails, hair and make-up done for the past three hours. It doesn't look like it, but getting pampered can be pretty exhausting.

Whatever. Let me be a diva, will you?

Tael, seeing that it's no use arguing with his much bossier sister, just sighs and leans against the counter, examining his half-complete masterpiece as well as my make-up job. He grins approvingly. He's a funny guy, with all those quirky smiles and everything.

He remind me a bit of young gnome, or a little fey. He's weird like that.

It's the first day of week four. Right now, I'm in the lounge of a professional photography studio. The idea, as Sheik had indeed hinted, is to take pictures with the Godly Trio to show I'm just as attractive and marketable as them.

Let's hope he's right.

"I saw your publicist outside," Tael says.

Link! Farore, that's right. He's been waiting out there in the studio since, what, five this morning? I remember he was doing his best to wake up properly, but…

"When I told him you wouldn't be ready before some time, he went to fetch himself a steaming extra large espresso," Tael comments amusedly. "He's been sitting there groggily, trying to get his eyes to stay open for the past two hours. I think he's on his third cup."

"I don't believe you," I say. Link's a morning person, right?

Tael laughs. "Alright. So it's just his second cup."

Oh Din. Poor Link.

That's when I hear excited giggles entering the lounge. I don't know how it's possible for an expression or a sound to enter somewhere, but that's exactly what's going on.

Three supermodels have just entered the lounge and whatever Tatl and Tael have been doing for me probably was just eclipsed by a big grinning moon. It is unfair, but I don't hate them. How can anyone hate people this beautiful? This is the first time I see three celebrities in the same room as me.

And I can understand why they're celebrities.

The tallest of the trio, Din Seasons, is a redheaded, gorgeous, curvaceous woman with gold bracelets and a sexy red dress. Her skin is flawless and radiant, from her exotic, haughty expression to her sandaled toes. I don't know how much moisturizing cream she uses daily, but I wish I could do the same. Her eyes are just a bit slanted, giving her a mysterious, aesthetic gaze. She walks with the grace of a cat and the confidence of a woman who knows she's beautiful.

Right behind her is raven-haired Nayru Ages, whose presence is far more angelic than devilish Din. Her skin is just as perfect as Din's, but even paler if possible. Her eyes are gentle and blue like a winter sky, and her blue dress is elegant and refined. Her gait is controlled, demure, and quiet, like she doesn't wish to be a bother. Her subdued beauty makes her all the more eye-catching, I guess.

Last but definitely not least, as she'd probably say, Farore Secrets seems to be even younger than Aryll. It's not unusual for such young girls to be models, and I must say, this time it's more than justified. Her brown hair looks like silk, but she pulled it up into two practical buns. She looks like the most excitable of the three, with bright, shining green eyes and fair skin. She's wearing cheerful green shorts and camisole, clearly not as self-conscious as Din and Nayru are.

The moment they notice that I'm also there, it's like they don't really know what to make of my presence. How can I blame them? They always do shoots on their own, without a fourth party to intrude. Seriously. I'm like the oddball here.

Tael, seeing that this might lead to an awkward moment, speaks up.

"This is Zelda Harkinian," he explains to the three models.

Their faces light up. Their sudden warmth surprises me. Before Tatl can express a single complaint, they've swarmed me and are asking all sorts of questions about being a princess. Stuff like, "Wow, so you're Zelda Harkinian? You're so pretty! Did you audition for the throne?" and "Hey, are there any cute princes to whisk you off?" and even, "Do you get free candy or something?"

I try to answer them as well as possible.

"Um, I'm just Daphne Nohansen's daughter. No, there aren't any cute princes." Like heck I'll be telling prettier girls than me that I have a hot publicist. "And no, I don't get free candy. I wish I did."

They seem amused by how flustered their excitement is making me. They shuffle aside to let Tatl back in front of me. Tatl looks frustrated that her artistic flow was disturbed by giddy models, and is now looking very offended.

Before the three can get even more hyped up, Tael suggests that they get fixed up.

Like three such beauties would need fixing up. Honestly.

Anyhow, that's how I assist to a typical preparation in these girls' lives. They start with their dresses, then, Tael fixes their hair, one after the other, and by this time, Tatl is finally done with my make-up and can move on to theirs.

I don't dare look at myself. Tael comes back to brush my hair and blow it out one last time, then sprays it with who-knows-what. Since the three came in, everything's been a flurry of activity. They all seem used to the ritual, so they often finish up some of the parts without Tatl or Tael's help.

All this is overwhelming and sort of depressing. It's one thing to get yourself fixed up, but it's quite another if, even fixed up, you don't compete with everyone else in the picture. That sucks.

That's why, when they're done adjusting their clothes, I still avoid looking at them. The last thing I need is to lose all my self-esteem.

It's not like I had much to start with. Nayru forbid I'd kiss it away like that.

… Nayru the goddess, I mean, not the model.

How confusing.

Din leans against the counter and looks at me as I stare fixedly at my shoes. Tatl left to fetch the dress they want me to wear. The concept is that I'm going to be all princess-y while Din, Farore and Nayru wear adjusted suits, as though they were my ―very attractive― bodyguards. I don't mind much. The concept has merit. It focuses on me while putting them in the spotlight too.

Din, for instance, is wearing a striped black jacket with an orange blouse under it. Her tie is black, and her pants are adjusted, straight and clean, striped black like her jacket. She's wearing lots of bracelets and huge earrings. Her red hair is pulled back into a big ponytail that swishes whenever she moves. If the world needed a bodyguard, it'd want the bodyguard to look like Din Seasons.

Okay, fine, I'll admit. I looked. Fat lot of good it did me too. Now for sure I know I won't be that pretty.

Dammit.

"Seriously, though," she says, and for the first time, I notice she has a sort of drawl. She's from Holodrum, so the distance might explain it, "Why are you competing against Ganondorf Dragmire anyway?"

I sigh. Nayru, wearing a cream coloured suit with a blue tie, smiles at me encouragingly, to make me answer Din. Beside her, Farore, wearing earthy tones and a green tie, looks my way with curious eagerness.

To Din, I say, "My father didn't want the country of Hyrule to fall into Ganondorf's hands. Word has it he'd become a tyrant."

Nayru looks gently sympathetic. "That'd be awful. It's a good thing you're in the competition, then, isn't it?"

"I guess," I mumble, examining my manicured fingernails morosely.

I don't see why they care much. I mean, they're not from Hyrule. Din and Farore are from Holodrum, while Nayru is from Labrynna. They're just on tour here.

Farore, who until then seems to have contained a great deal of excitation, suddenly says, "What about his friends, Veran Black, Onox Gorgon and Agahnim Veils?"

I turn to look her way. She seems so naïve, but obviously she knows more about politics than she lets on. Smart kid.

"Well, they're not exactly a bunch of party animals either," I say, as diplomatically as possible. I don't know if they don't secretly approve of Agahnim or Onox. Somehow, I doubt it, but one is never too sure.

"I heard Onox was into Hyrule's money," Din comments blandly, not really caring to see my reaction. "They say he was sticking to Dragmire for the financial rewards."

"Yes," Nayru nods. "I heard that Agahnim too was in some sort of agreement with Ganondorf Dragmire. Something or other about making public lands private. I'm not sure what exactly that's about, but…" She glances at me, as though I could magically provide some answers.

To me, it makes a bit more sense. Every one of Ganondorf's so-called friends is in it for something. Ganondorf himself wants the power, obviously. Veran Black is in it for the power trip, her love life, and possibly for the underground protection. Agahnim Veils seems likely to want a large estate himself, maybe a vast area of land for him to possess and make money off of. As for Onox Gorgon, the giant right arm, money and power would probably satisfy him.

I feel a dull hatred for the four of them.

How dare they think of Hyrule as something to be used to selfish purposes? What of the people?

"At least," Din drawls a bit, looking straight at me, "you can easily outdo them."

I laugh a bit cynically. "Sure. One can only hope."

"Please," Din says, rolling her eyes, "you don't know how much impact you actually have."

"And it doesn't matter for now," Tatl comments, returning with a big plastic pouch. Inside I can only assume is the dress she wants me to wear. "Out," she commands, and the Godly Trio obeys, heading for the studio door.

As they exit, Tatl unzips the plastic cover and pulls out my dress.

It's gorgeous. In pink and white, it's like a piece of spring turned into a garment. The sleeves are off the shoulder, and the skirt itself is just flowing enough that it enhances my waist. The waistline, actually, is pretty low, so it hugs my body.

I stand in front of the floor-length mirror, and I almost can't believe that what I see inside is my own reflection.

Meanwhile, a chorus of giggles from the studio rises. This shouldn't be alarming, but the fact that their laughs are answered by a voice that is very familiar to me contributes to my panic.

Link is still out there. The three goddesses are talking to Link.

That's it. I no longer stand a chance.

Seriously, though, how can I possibly be anywhere near as attractive as them? Sure, I'm amazingly pretty in this dress, but realistically, I don't even compare.

Tatl hands me a pair of gloves. I put them on, wondering why they even bothered with a manicure if it's going to wind up hidden in white gloves.

Oh. Great. I'm bummed out and it's showing. At least, Tatl noticed it.

"I put your make-up on to enhance your smile," she says, in her best no-nonsense tone. "If you frown, you look like a clown."

How spontaneous.

"That's a lovely rhyme," I comment sullenly. Meanwhile, I consider that everything is against me today. Ganondorf Dragmire is still more popular than me, and all his friends are plotting to dilapidate Hyrule property, basically resulting in the country's destruction. And now, the three most beautiful women in the Hylian Alliance, against whom I don't even compare, have surrounded Link, the hottest guy I ever met.

This sucks.

"I'm not asking you to appreciate poetry," Tatl is saying, exasperatedly. "I want you to smile! I've seen you on the news. I know you can do it."

She has a point. What comes first is my winning against Ganondorf Dragmire. My crush on my super hot publicist can wait forever, for all I care. If he doesn't know what's best for him, ―me, I mean, ― then it's his loss.

Oh darn, who am I kidding?

I smile, but it's because Tatl asked me to. All right, be positive. I look almost as good as Din, Farore and Nayru ―the models, not the goddesses.

Oh, now that might get really confusing. I can't help but associate those three names to cursing. I might as well replace the goddesses' names with just 'gods'. That's sure to get rid of the confusion. I might even start a trend!

The thought makes me smile, this time without thinking about Link getting with someone else. There's nothing I can do about Link's affections, but I can at least look good enough for Hyrule.

"That's better," Tatl approves, when she notices my smile grow genuine. Already, I feel a bit better. "Ready?" She asks.

I nod, and finally step out into the studio area. I immediately spot Link. He's slouching ―slouching! Talk about posture! ― in a folding chair, surrounded by Din, Farore and Nayru. The dream of every male in the world incarnated before his eyes, and actually, he doesn't even seem overly fascinated.

Instead of drooling, as a lesser man would, he's smiling and conversing politely, his empty cup of coffee cradled between his hands. To my joy, he looks just as tired as before, in spite of his happy company.

Let's say the facts, though: even the Godly Trio can't resist Link's charms.

It's good to know I at least have taste.

Farore notices me first. Her face stretches into a gorgeous, impressed smile.

"Oh," Din says, her eyes going from Link's sinewy arms to me, "Nice work." Her drawl stretches her syllables. "Hardly any changes, hm?"

That's when Link looks up. I notice his eyes widen, just slightly, before he gets a hold of himself. He sits up straighter, coming to full attention. I can see his gaze roving from my hair to my shoes and back up again, like he can't trust that I, little Miss Ordinary, have become queenly.

Well, well… Looks like he's not that immune after all.

The Trio lets him pass when he stands to examine me more closely.

I feel myself heat up. There's something about the way he's looking at me that makes my throat close up and my heart beat faster. There's a sort of intensity about him… I can't pinpoint why he looks like this, but it makes me really mushy inside. Really, guys who look at girls this way should know that it's risky: it can make them overheat.

Link finally stops in front of me. He looks down at everything Tatl and Tael have done for me. After a really long contemplative pause, he says, his voice deep and a tiny, quirky smile pulling at the corner of his lips, "… Your highness."

That's it. I have lost all solid consistency and have melted into a warm, happy puddle of joy.

No coherent answer comes to mind, much less a witty one, so it's a relief when another voice breaks in.

"Alright, everyone's ready?" It's Mr. Deku King, the photographer. He's a stout, short, small-eyed man with a thick, tanned skin that's all wrinkled. Too much sun does that to a person.

It hardly takes fifteen minutes for him to have positioned the three goddesses and myself on the set. The background is a milky white, with just a delicate, ornamented throne in the middle. He has me sit as daintily as possible in it, and places Din, Farore and Nayru around me. Din is over my shoulder, Nayru at my side, and Farore near my feet, sitting comfortably.

"Family portrait," he says, returning to behind his camera. To himself, but loudly, he mumbles, "The four most beautiful women in the Hylian Alliance."

For the next few hours, he has us smile, shift, smile, smile naturally, move, grin, shift, laugh, move, jump, smirk, smile, stand, crouch, smile again, take off the gloves, put on the gloves, look surprised, look over the shoulder, stand separately, stand together, sit in a circle.

Every time he asks me to smile, I glance at Link, and I remember the way he looked at me, and I grin the prettiest smile I can possibly manage. At least, now my publicist is awake, so he's paying close attention to whatever is going on. Not long ago, Tael brought him another tall cup of coffee. So he's been all-smiles since, too.

Predictably, it's the most attractive thing ever.

I know I'm not being subtle, but I don't care. The large projectors are half-blinding me. I can blame them for the direction my eyes keep returning to.

Just when I start thinking that this dress is uncomfortable when under hot projectors, King has me change to a suit that resembles the three others'. Mine, though, has a pink shirt with a grey jacket and pants suit. Instead of a tie, my collar is open to show my collarbone.

Plus, I get a hat. Sweet!

Again, we take a few more hundred pictures. The question is, how many are they going to keep?

"Alright," King commands. "Now you can all relax. Be natural. Talk together. I'll change the memory cartridge on this thing and we'll start again."

I slump a bit. Din, Farore and Nayru sit on the floor quietly.

Finally, when she realises that Link is out of hearing range, Farore leans forward and asks, "So what's the deal with you and him?"

Whoa. Straight to the point, isn't she?

"What?" I ask, because the fact that I still haven't made a move on him is rather embarrassing. Also, I don't want to talk about this when there's a tiny possibility of him overhearing it.

"Oh, come on," Din smirks. "He's a cutie. Don't deny it."

Like heck I'd deny it. I'd have to be blind not to notice how gorgeous he is.

"Can we discuss something else?" I ask.

I look in Nayru's direction because she's the most mild-mannered of the three. Hopefully she'll have pity of me and find something to distract her companions with.

Effectively, Nayru just smiles at me in kind amusement and says, "Now, girls. Let's not pressure Zelda. She has a lot to worry about already without our incentive."

Farore shoots me a suspicious stare and asks, in a low voice, "Okay. Simple question. Is he all business, all friends, or all love?"

Do not look at Link, Zelda. Do not look at him.

"We're just friends," I whisper, thankful that the hum of the projectors can cover up part of our conversation.

Din and Farore, clearly the most teasing of the trio, look disappointed.

"Fine," Din grumbles. "Don't tell us the truth."

Hey, I am telling the truth! It's a sad reality, but at least I didn't make it up! I tell you. People need to learn to have faith or something.

Din crosses her arms. "Now tell me how you're planning to get rid of Ganondorf Dragmire."

That's a good question, I think. Sure, I wonder why she's interested by the politics of it, but whatever.

How exactly am I going to mess with Ganondorf's party anyway? There must be some way to blackmail him. Better yet, if there was information about him that was so horrible that he'd have no choice but to back out of the race, then I'd not only piss him off, I'd also win. How cool would that be?

Here's a hint: very.

"Well," I say, "I don't know for sure. If you have any information to help me, maybe I could figure something out."

Farore grins broadly. "A press revelation, hm?"

"Sure," I acquiesce. "But I want to play fair. No inventions, just facts."

"And make sure you can't be accused wrongly," Din mumbles comprehensively.

I grin. "Of course. I might even use his flawed rumours about me against him. Make him into the liar he is."

Approvingly, Nayru concludes, "You'll fight his lies with true, hard fact." She glances around at her two companions with a smile. "I think we can help you."

This strikes me as truly shocking. What can three supermodels possibly do to help me? Since when do they have a hand in politics anyway?

Din notices my incredulity. She says, confidently, "To fight him, strike him where he is most confident. In this case, his authority."

Is she thinking of something specific? I ask, "Do you have something in mind?"

Din manages to look mildly offended. "Please. I always do. For now," she grins, "just play it cool. Remember that you're far more likeable than him. You're new and good-hearted."

I gaze at each of them in turn. Why are they helping me? There must be a trick. "Nothing is ever free. What's your motive?"

Farore grimaces. "Dragmire wants to cut our promotion funds here, in Hyrule."

Din sighs, exasperated. "Look, girl. Promise you won't cut our funds and we're in with you. We're influential enough."

"I won't cut your funds if you give me your autographs," I say back, because frankly I could use their help too.

"We'll give you our autographs," Din smirks, "if you give us yours."

I grin. "Deal."

"Deal."

The four of us exchange big conspiratorial smiles, when suddenly we hear a click. I turn to look at Mr. King, who lowers his camera.

"What's the deal?" He asks. "You were pure natural. Don't get out of the mood. Keep going."

Darn, I hadn't noticed he was back. So much for evil plotting.

My eyes wander to King's side, where Link is sitting in his folding chair again, looking at us in amused contemplation. His blue eyes are glinting with it.

Oh, gods. Link just watched me bantering with the Godly Trio. There's no mistaking his grin either. I try to look as innocent as possible, but he just shakes his head fondly and reclines in his chair, hands joined behind his head casually.

His shirt bunches up at his shoulders, and he looks completely delectable there.

Whoa. Gorgeous alert. I can't help but stare out of the corner of my eye.

As Din shuffles to find a more comfortable pose, I hear her mumble, "Just friends? My ass."

Darn, I consider as we all try to find something new for the camera. Maybe she's omniscient, like a real goddess. Because I think she may just know something about it.

Link rolls his shoulders to stretch. Oh, bugger.

I think I might be doomed.

* * *

**That was chapter 18. Nothing particular to say. I think it was pretty self-explanatory. Still nine chapters to go before it's all over... So obviously I've got plenty more stuff in store for you peeps. You should like it.**

**Clearly, Deku King was from _Majora's Mask_, whereas Din, Farore and Nayru came from the _Oracle_ games. I made it so Farore came from Holodrum, even though she appeared in both Labrynna and Holodrum in the games (I think), because I found there weren't many characters who come from there in this story.**

**Executive decision, is all.**

**Leave a review, if you want. To anyone who has specific questions regarding the story, please send me a signed review, a PM, or an e-mail so I can reply properly.**

**Love,  
CM**


	19. Learner

**Gah, so tired. I have little to no spare time lately (and my social relations are more complex than ever). I'm lucky to even have time to eat these days. Still, I hurried between projects to post this, so be grateful (I'm sure you are).**

**I have nothing to add for now. See you at the bottom line. ;P**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Learner"**

I never tried milkwine before. It always seemed like the kind of drink powerful people break out if they're rich and have something to celebrate.

I mentioned this to Link earlier today, because I obviously couldn't have shut up. After contemplation, he said that our meeting was adjourned until the afternoon, and that I had to dress elegantly for the occasion. I think it's his way of making fun of me.

Or maybe he's completely serious, which should cause me to worry.

Anyhow, that's why I'm wearing an evening dress just after lunch and sitting in a nice chair in the west wing boudoir, looking out the window at the dull sunlight. The windows are pretty big, and frankly this recluse room could probably host a small party. Talk about a boudoir.

How many people could this room fit comfortably? I'm thinking twenty-five obese people, or forty slim people.

Then, my thought pattern gets really convoluted because I begin to wonder how many obese _and_ slim people combined could fit in. Ugh, my brain.

Math was never my strong point.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I hear Link ask, and his voice doesn't even startle me. I blink and turn to look at him.

Gods. He's wearing crisp evening clothes. I saw him in this sort of clothing before, but every time, it becomes a new kind of sexy. Seriously. He looks like your modern prince charming. Which is so ironic because I'm supposed to be the royalty around here and because there is no way we can get together.

Remember, Zelda: he's your publicist; you're the future queen; and, okay, why must he be so handsome? It makes not liking him so bloody hard.

"Just considering that we should host a rave in this room," I say, as levelly as possible.

My eyes drop to what he's carrying. It looks like three bottles of wine. Well, that makes sense since we're going to have a milkwine tasting lesson. My logic seems to be slipping. I'll just blame Link's hotness. It's the perfect culprit for plenty of things.

Maybe Link was right to have me change into an evening dress. I already don't feel as weird about drinking milkwine. I still think ―alright, I _hope_, ― that Link just commanded it in order to see me in a dress rather than a pair of jeans.

Well, I'm not going to complain. He returned the favour. Look at that body of his. Drool.

He puts the three bottles down on an end table. "I don't think," he jokes, "that a rave would please Kotake." He then heads towards a small cabinet out of which he pulls two wineglasses.

I can't help but notice the precision of his movements. It's entrancing to watch. It makes him seem so capable. Actually, if Tetra looks efficient, Link exudes it.

"The purpose of today's exercise," he says, "is to teach you how to differentiate plain milkwine from excellent milkwine. That's why we have the following bottles." He taps the cork of each bottle as he names them. "Cattle Milk, a cheap imitation of milkwine with strong alcoholic content, Lon Milk, a respected but inexpensive milkwine, and finally, the spotlight of our lesson, Château Romani, the most expensive and high-quality milkwine in the Hylian Alliance... All set?"

He's so sexy. Oh, gods. I need to focus.

"All set," I confirm.

"You did mention you didn't know much about milkwine, and since you'll be busy drinking, I took the liberty of typing up a sheet with the basic information on tasting." He even adds, with a teasing smile, "Who knows, you might not be able to make sense of drunken notes, otherwise."

"How astute of you," I say as flatly.

"It was a joke," Link grins. "You'll still be sober at the end of this. Since milkwine is an alcoholic beverage, there's a risk for beginners to get drunk fast. That's why you're also going to learn how to spit it out."

Um. Okay. Ew. Gross.

"You want me to spit it out?" I repeat, a bit incredulously. "How am I supposed to do that elegantly, pray tell?"

"There are a couple of techniques," Link assures me. "I'll show you when we get to it." Goody. Anything that involves Link's mouth _has_ to be good.

"Let's start with observation."

Yes, I think, let's start with observing Link. Why must he be so handsome anyway? How is it that his every trait is so defined and he's so well toned? His parents must have been gods or something. Even his movements are defined. He uncorks the first bottle professionally.

Wait. My eyebrows rise high. I only saw one person uncork a bottle as confidently as that before, and it was Talon Ranch. Seems like Link isn't unfamiliar with alcoholic beverages.

I ask, disguising my surprise, "You've done bar service before?"

He glances up with a thin, amused smile. "Maybe. University won't pay itself."

Okay. Link is my new soul mate.

He pours the milk into the glass. Immediately, a familiar scent wafts up to me. I frown.

"Gods," I mumble, grimacing, "why does it smell like alcohol so much?"

"Cattle Milk is a fake milkwine. It's prepared similarly, but it's not filtered as well and as much as usual. Actually, it's a mystery that it doesn't turn to rat poison."

"That," I say, taking up the glass he slid to me carefully, "is repulsing." I glance at Link, and I notice that he just shot me a tiny, kind, amused grin.

I think that's the cutest smile I ever saw him make. Mustn't melt, mustn't melt…

Oh, dammit. What's the point? It so figures. I am the dumbest person in the world. I let this happen. I should have seen it coming, though. I should have known.

I think I'm in love. This isn't just a crush or some _illusion_ about Link being my soul mate. I'm in love.

I have to fall out of love, and quick.

"Alright," he says, picking up his own glass. Why? Why was I so weak? Why did he have to be so nice and cute and sweet?? "First, you want to observe the general colouring of the drink."

I glance down at the content of my wine glass. "It's white."

Link smiles patiently. "Yes, but how?"

"It's opaque," I say, slowly, unsure of what he wants me to observe. "You can't see through it."

Link grins. "Precisely. Usually, the less light comes through, the heavier the drink."

"Oh," I say. "I knew that. Talon Ranch would always tell us never to give the heavy beers to the late-night drunkards." It's true. Malon and I would often have to trick the patrons with lighter drinks because otherwise, they'd fall asleep at the counter or retch all over the place before the end of the night.

Link smiles again. "I was waiting to see when the barmaid would kick in."

I pull a face at him. "Milkwine was too fancy for us Lakeside suckers."

He doesn't dignify that with a response. "You'll see in a little while that in contrast, Château Romani is drastically lighter. It's still white, but you can see through it."

I bring my glass up to take a quick sniff of the drink. Before I can even get close, Link's hands closes around mine and lowers my glass. His eyes shine with humour.

"Not so fast. I'd suggest not taking a whiff of this one. It's a bit too strong."

I roll my eyes. Hot or not, this guy seems to think I'm stupid. "I wasn't about to inhale it or anything. I just wanted to get an overall feel for the smell."

He seems amused. "Don't worry about the scent for now. That's a whole new lesson. For now, we'll just focus on the tasting itself." He lets go of my hand, which for the record I intend never to wash again, and says the one thing I have been dreading since this morning. "Take a sip."

I do so. Down my throat it goes, burning a trail of impossible strength along the way.

Holy Gods. How much alcohol is in this stuff anyway? I wonder this as I nearly choke. My eyes water, even.

"What kind of drink is this?" I splutter, coughing.

Link carefully takes my glass from me to keep it from spilling all over the place. "A poor imitation of milkwine, that's what. Since you're going to be the future queen, you'll never have to deal with this sort of poor quality drink ever again."

Really, I wonder. But it wasn't exactly bad.

An idea blossoms in my mind, and I examine Link's gentle but serious profile as he shuffles with the half-full wineglasses. I feel myself burn and doubt creep into my mind. What I'm thinking of demands guts and fearlessness. Do I have it in me?

Well, that Cattle thing wasn't half-bad, so this might work.

"Milkwine, real milkwine," Link is saying as he reaches for the Lon Milk bottle, uncorking it as professionally as before, "tastes creamy and sweet, but there's an insidious sort of alcohol in it that can get you drunk without your notice."

I take my Cattle glass back. Link's eyes widen comically as he freezes in his movements. "Don't―" But he can't finish his sentence, since I already downed all its contents. I grin at him and put the glass back down.

Link lets out a loud sigh. "Did I mention the purpose of this class was not to get you drunk?" He puts the Lon bottle back down, and mumbles, "Maybe I should teach you how to spit it out…"

I laugh. It's always easier to keep going than to get started. "It's a bit late for that."

"For future reference," Link says, flatly, but I can guess that he's a bit amused, at least, "when you take a sip, you taste it for five seconds then spit it back out. Usually there's a bowl provided with an absorbent product at the bottom to keep it from splashing." He furrows a dark blonde brow, holding back a thin smile. "If you don't make use of that sort of thing, you'll be drunk in no time. We can't have any of that."

He's right. I hardly drank a glass of that Cattle thing and I'm feeling very warm. That stuff is powerful…

"Actually," Link continues to say, "Since we don't have a bowl for you to spit in, you'll have to take only small sips and as few as possible."

Ah, but see, that isn't my goal. Here's a sexy and serious hunk that I would pay money to see wasted. I know. I should restrain myself. Really. But it's not like I'm going to take advantage of him. I'd like to see him loosen up, that's all.

Link looks up at me. I smile as innocently as possible. To my surprise, his own face turns into a suspicious grin.

"Zelda?" He examines my face critically. "Are you hooked to Cattle milk or something?"

I blink. "Um…" I know the answer to this, but it's best to lie. "No?"

He seems to be holding back a smirk. "I'll pretend I believed that unconvincing display." He picks up the Cattle milk bottle and pours himself a glass as well. He holds it up. "Now. What did you notice while you were tasting it?"

"The alcohol," I say, a bit hoarsely, because it kind of burned my throat to down the whole glass in one shot.

Link smiles. "Yes. The alcohol. To which I'm beginning to suspect you have no resistance."

Lies! All lies, I tell you! I can't believe he concluded this from― Well, I can't believe he made that assumption, which has no basis in reality whatsoever. Really. None at all. I mean… I was a barmaid. I know about alcohol. Right?

Then again, being a barmaid implies I couldn't drink, since I was supposed to be catering to the others' needs.

Fine. So I have no resistance.

I refuse to admit it, though.

"Anyhow," Link says, having amusedly examined the emotions that probably played on my face in the past two seconds, "when tasting something, it's imperative to take notice of three basic and principal points: the overall feeling, the origin, and the texture."

"Feeling," I repeat diligently, all the while wondering how I could possibly test his own drinking skills, "origin, texture."

"Tell me about those."

Bah. Boring. I want to see him drunk instead. "Why don't _you_ tell me?"

Link shoots me an indulgent grin and lifts his glass to his lips. Yes! Victory is mine!

He takes a sip of the milkwine. He looks pensive for a moment. I see his throat move as the wine comes down.

"Well?" I ask, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

He lowers his glass, purses his lips, looking at me critically. I get this feeling like he's either going to put me in my place or going to say, very coolly, 'I want to see you naked'. It's like he's blankly considering his options.

Finally, he says, "Just how thirsty are you?"

My brow rises. He meets the motion with a tiny, beguiling smirk.

"Are you suggesting we drink more than is reasonable?" I ask.

Link shrugs, putting the glass aside. His eyes wander over the skirt of my evening dress, down to my tattoo, which is showing just above the lacing of my sandal. In a completely professional tone, he says, "A couple of priorities shifted. I get this feeling like tasting milkwine is not the right activity for either of us."

I don't know if this is his way of turning me down or of making a move on me. Considering that he's so ambiguous, I choose not to speak. Let him clear this up.

He stands and walks towards the door. "When I listed milkwine tasting lessons, I hadn't accounted for the fact that you'd be completely permeable to alcohol."

Hey, bastard, the fact that I don't have as much experience as you might have in the drinking department doesn't make me some naïve lamb.

"Excuse me," I say, bringing an indignant hand up to my chest, "If you're going to insult me on my non-history with drinking, I'm leaving."

Link turns back to look at me. He looks impossibly handsome, and his smile is even stretched into a cute smile, like he's amused that I took the bait. "I didn't mean to offend you. But at this point, you're just too unaccustomed to drinking for lessons like this one. You need more alcohol resistance."

Bummer. There goes my chance at seeing Link drunk. Because, "Well, I'm sorry, but I doubt I'm going to develop that skill very quickly."

He reaches for the doorknob and closes the door quietly. He says, softly, "Precisely. Therefore, I suggest you take the notes I typed up for you and study them. As for resistance, it's never too early to start building it up."

He shoots me another one of those looks. Wait. He closed the door behind him. We're probably all alone in this tower, with three full bottles of powerful and insidious alcohol, and he's suggesting that we—

"You _are _suggesting that we get blind stinking drunk!" I exclaim in shock.

This causes him to laugh. "If you don't like the idea, it's alright too."

Um, excuse me, sweetheart, but if you think I'm going to pass up an opportunity to see you drunk while wearing a hot tux, you are out of your mind.

"This exercise won't last very long," I say. "I'm already half fuddled."

"After one glass of milkwine?" Link teases calmly, coming back to his seat. "I doubt that."

He shoots me a daring, intent look. This can only mean two things. Either he is the sexiest, most distracting professional publicist a girl can have, either he's a freak who wears Terminian suits like a chocolate bar wears its wrapper.

Hm. Let's see. Get secretly smashed with the hottest man I know, or keep my dignity until next time? This is a tougher debate than one might believe.

"I never got wasted before," I carefully say.

Link chuckles. "Good. Me neither."

"You're lying," I say. He rolls his eyes.

"Alright. I did get crocked once, and I woke up the next morning next to a girl wearing a leotard. Considering that she was still wearing the leotard and I was still wearing my pants, it's likely I didn't get it on with her." I try to stifle my laughter while he looks pensive. "How can a drunk guy possibly be expected to remove a leotard anyway? That's ten times the difficulty of a bra."

I break out into uncontrolled giggles. I can't believe Link Forester, the most competent man alive, the most focused man I know, is saying stuff like this. What the heck got into him? He's not like his usual self, but he's just as a fun.

Is it possible that his alcohol resistance is even lower than mine? No. Surely not. It probably just loosened him up.

Anyhow, I choose not to be upset by his misadventures. It's not like Leotard Girl can be blamed for wanting to get Link naked. Gods know women everywhere live to see that kind of hunk drop trou.

I'd probably just get upset if it happened these days, while I'm next door.

"So, what do you say?" Link offers. "This is your last opportunity to do something crazy and out of line."

He hands me a glass full of milkwine. The alcohol wafts up to both our noses, and we both frown in mild disgust and amusement.

I take the glass from him. "Whatever happens, I reserve the right to kick you wherever I deem necessary if you do something perverted." Hah. Lie!

Link nods solemnly, pouring himself a glass as well. "Of course. I personally reserve the right to stop the game if I feel the overwhelming urge to vomit."

I grimace in open disgust. "Please don't hesitate."

His sharp blue eyes rise to meet mine. With a smile, he asks, "Any last words?"

We both look pensive. I consider that we're not nearly drunk enough to declare our undying love to one another. That's why I finally say, "Nope. You?"

He thinks a little while longer than me, but in the end he just says, "None."

I wish I could say I remember all the details of the following hour. We spoke and drank. I remember we exchanged tales of our respective embarrassing experiences, as well as family anecdotes. I unfortunately cannot recall much of what they were, though. It doesn't matter, since Link was just as drunk as me.

It's somewhat comforting to know that even the coolest people, the ones with the competent attitudes and sexy looks, can still have as little drinking experience as me.

I observe this, trying to detach each syllable to make them clearly audible. Link, sitting on the far side of the elegant divan where we collapsed earlier, looks up from his glass with a sort of dazed but still good-humoured look.

He says, his words surprisingly clear, and not slurred at all, "There are three types of drinkers: the eternal newbies, ―that's you and me, ― the boasters, and the idiots. The boasters claim to know how to drink, but most of their tales are exaggerated. They only say their exploits because they think it makes them interesting. The idiots, on their part, are swayed by the boasters' stories and think they have to drink themselves dead to be cool too. Because they didn't understand they could just fake it."

That makes a lot of sense, even though it's coming from a guy who is so wasted that he can't move his legs anymore.

"So," I say, bringing my legs up to place my feet in his lap, "it's better to be eternal newbies?"

"Yeah," Link says, shaking his empty glass. It's been fifteen minutes since any of us has taken anything to drink, actually. We just forgot to drink more.

Oh well.

"So," Link mumbles, "Tell me something I don't know about you."

I shoot him an annoyed and embarrassed look. "What _don't_ you know about me?"

I meant this as a rhetorical question, but he takes it seriously.

"Well," he starts listing on his fingers, "what your favourite show is, what your favourite dessert is, what you like to complain about, what you like boasting about… I don't know. Anything."

I'm surprised by his interest in me, but I answer him anyway. At this point, if he's going to be my publicist, he might as well know a few facts. "I love the _Queasy and Cheesy_ show. Newscast sarcasm was always my favourite genre. I love strawberry cake with lots of almond frosting. I like to complain if it gets me a quick problem resolution. I like boasting about finding items on sale. And you?"

Link snorts. "Well… My life is pretty boring nowadays. I live for work. But as far as shows go, I like… I don't know… science-fiction things, like _Dark Realm_."

"You like _Dark Realm_?" I ask, incredulous. How much of a nerd can someone this hot be?

"Don't judge me," he laughingly warns. "Though _Queasy and Cheesy_ is also pretty good. And… My favourite dessert would have to be dark chocolate cookies. Yum."

"That is disgusting."

"You have no taste, obviously," Link responds, causing me to shove him with my foot. He laughs. "I don't like complaining or boasting to others. I complain and boast to myself."

"Wow. You sound like such a loner."

Link snorts. "I am, I guess. I live for my family and my work. Most my friends are also business acquaintances." I notice that his hands are giving my foot a massage. Ah. Good boy.

"So, your private life is still connected to your work?"

"What private life?" He asks, jokingly, but I can guess that he's not that far from the truth. "Seriously," he says, "right now all my energy is focused on you."

Is it my fault that I am rendered speechless? Taken out of context, this sentence would have made my heart beat faster. Right now, it just seems as though I constitute his sole preoccupation. As though I'm what keeps him from getting his own life.

"I'm sorry that your life revolves around others so much," I say sympathetically. "It must suck."

He grins, and his blue eyes meet mine again. "Not really. Things have been picking up lately." The way he smiles at me is both teasing and friendly.

Whoa. It's been so long since I last blushed from a compliment. It's not surprising that he's the one who actually has the power to affect me like that.

I pull my foot away from his comforting hands and sit up a bit straighter. "Um, so, you mean that before I came along your job was boring?"

He shrugs, inching over with a shuffle. "Politics are never boring. But they get redundant." He stops moving once he's sitting next to me. "Besides, it's difficult to keep a decent set of morals when you're surrounded by vain ambition. I'll say your coming up was a breath of fresh air."

I laugh, looking at the empty bottle of Cattle Milk. "Not that fresh at the moment. We're both sloshed," I say, as though it were unspeakable.

"We are," Link agrees, and I see him look pensive. "So drunk, in fact, that anything we may choose to do would be justly attributed to the milkwine..." He glances at me.

"What are you suggesting?" I ask, my voice coming out as a whisper, unintentionally.

He doesn't say anything, but I feel my gut twisting with some sort of anticipation. I notice that his lips aren't that far from mine.

Could it be? Is he going to—?

We both start when we hear something thudding against our door. Link motions for me to stay seated. He stands and strides towards the door. He doesn't even sway. Whoa. He got over the alcohol way faster than I'd have expected.

He swings the door open. A young man falls forward, pushed on by an irate Darunia. The guy looks impossibly pale. His hair is dark. He looks kind of ominous, too. He has a thin frame. And he carries a recorder, which is enough to send dread in my veins. Darunia picks him up from the floor. "What are you doing here, kid?"

The 'kid' glares at Darunia, but daringly holds up his recorder. "Vaati Winder. Reporter for the Mask of Truth."

Link, hardly even glancing at Vaati Winder, just grabs the recorder, takes the tape out, and breaks in two. Vaati lets out a frustrated, indignant howl.

"That's private property! You can't stop the liberty of press—I have rights, you know!"

Link grabs Vaati's collar. He has the hot cop thing down pat. "So do we, so I don't care. Unless you want to be sued on behalf of Marcastle Palace, I suggest you shut up." He looks through Vaati's pockets, and takes out a rumpled business card. He snorts at the name written there, then smiles at Vaati, who is still looking indignant. "Guess what. I have a better, more lucrative job for you."

"I'll take this up to my boss!"

Link smirks. "That's a wonderful idea. And here's what I want you to say…" He drags Vaati out before I can even get a word in.

Uh… Hey, wait a minute… There goes my kiss!

Dammit!

* * *

**Chapter 19! This is one of the first times we see Link as he is naturally. Fun!**

**Regarding Link's drinking experience quote, I'd like to credit my friend Slim. Not that he knows I exploit his rare but wise words of wisdom.**

**As for the information on wine tasting, I'd like to say that I did some research, but pretty much invented my set of rules regarding 'milkwine'. I have no clue how milkwine could possibly be fabricated, considering the chemical composition of both milk and wine, two liquids that are, as far as I know, completely incompatible on a biological level. At any rate, in this world, the thicker the liquid, the heavier its content in alcohol and the higher its impurities.**

**Also, introduction to Vaati. He was planned a long time ahead, but he comes in now. Hope that satisfies the curious.**

**And ohoho! Link is mischievous. You'll have to wait and see what he has in mind, hm?**

**Sorry for the delay, anyhow. My life (and birthday parties) took up my time. Now, though, I'm an official adult! W00t!**

**Love,  
****CM**


	20. Investigator

**Indeed, this is chapter 20.**

**BEFORE I START, let's just make one thing clear. I'd appreciate it if you** read the following message** and respect my wishes:**

**Do not tell me anything about _Twilight Princess_. I have not yet purchased the Wii, nor have I begun playing TP (obviously). I do not know when I will get the game. As a result, anyone who wishes to discuss the game with me will have to do so in a spoiler-free way. **

**Allow me to reformulate.**

**Do not review the upcoming chapters with any spoilers of any kind. I am saying this on behalf of myself and other readers who have not yet gotten their hands on the game. In fact, I will for the first time make a serious warning, and it goes as follows:**

"Spoil anything about TP to me (or to anyone else who can read the material you send me) via review, PM or email, and I will not post another chapter for OiH until I have played the game through at least once. Considering the inavailability of the Wii for purchase, the difficulty of finding the game, my patience and my propensity for slow-gaming, this means 'a long, long time'."

**You might say this is an extreme measure, but I consider that it is my only leverage and protection against spoilers. I am very aware that most of you will respect this, but I am saying this just in case. Do not assume that I will not actually go through with this threat. I can be a pretty big bitch if I want to (not that I want to be at the moment).**

**The best way to avoid annoying me would be to review solely this story and nothing else. That's all. :)**

**That cleared up, please enjoy this new chapter.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Investigator" **

I'd like to say I know what Link said to Vaati two days ago. This is my twenty-fifth day in Marcastle, and I'm therefore less than a week away from the final decision. In a sense, whatever my publicist does should in some way or other help me out. But I don't know what Link charged Vaati of doing.

Impa and Rauru both assure me I've got a steady footing for the ministerial vote, but I'm not nearly that confident. Everything is getting rushed, with plenty of things to oversee. Tetra is so busy that I didn't even see her for the past four days.

Sheik has been training me to stretch again. I am still sore and would like to mention that torture wasn't part of the curriculum when I got onboard.

Malon, Anju and Ruto have been out sightseeing. I don't blame them. With the coronation seven days away, and the vote just six days away, the palace staff has been pretty crazy and stressful. Besides, I'm always getting more lessons, so it's not like they can hang out with me.

That's so annoying, actually. You can train a girl like me to be a queen, but I'll still want to shop with my friends at the end of the day. If being a queen means I can't have fun anymore, then being a queen totally sucks.

In fairy tales, queens and princesses always have extra time to get kidnapped, rescued, wooed by handsome knights, maybe kick some baddy butt. But I tell you, being a royal isn't at all what it's cracked up to be.

First, my so-called knight has yet to slay the dragon ―Ganondorf Dragmire, of course, ― and is even farther away from kissing me or wooing me with tender words of love. Actually, considering how desperate I'm getting where my publicist is concerned, a simple and unromantic 'Let's get naked' would certainly soothe my frazzled nerves.

Second, I'm not even a real princess, and I'm not sure to become a queen. That can certainly cause a certain amount of confusion in my story.

Hey, maybe that's why my knight in shining armour hasn't been slaying any dragons for me: I'm not a real princess! Well, bloody gods. This fine print is going to be the end of me.

What's Link planning anyway? He's up to something. You don't have to be a big genius to figure it out: he's been busy making calls all day yesterday, and I even saw him with a phone at his ear this morning.

Not that I'm jealous of the person on the other line, but I'd like to know what gets him so excited. He looks like something amazingly good and sneaky is about to occur, and, like any normal girl, I'm curious.

I risk a look inside his room, since the door is open. It rarely is, so this is a golden opportunity to figure him out. What's he up to?

Link is sitting at his desk. He glances up from a notepad, the phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear. He's been penning down a phone number, and laughing about something I can't hear. He shoots me a winning grin, which completely throws me.

Oh, dammit. How can anyone stay suspicious of a guy like that?

I smile back thinly, waving weakly, then I continue on my way. I can't seem too suspicious, after all. Whatever Link is doing, I can only hope, must be for my good.

I'm still curious about what role Vaati has to play in all this. I mean, for gods' sake, he works for a gossip magazine. That's shady enough from the start.

"Zelda!"

I turn when I hear Aryll's voice. It's been a while since I last saw her. I know she's been busy enjoying her vacation, so I haven't seen her much.

Today she's wearing a faded shirt that says 'Go numbskulls!' which I assume is her way of encouraging sarcasm. Her massive grin contradicts this, however. There's nothing sarcastic about the way she's skipping over to me. It's almost as though every shop in Hyrule simultaneously announced they'd begin an 80 per cent sale on every article available.

I can't figure out what other event could possibly elicit such obvious enthusiasm from a teenage girl.

She shoots me a big smile and excitedly says, "I got good news and bad news!"

Oh, bloody damnation.

"The good news," Aryll starts before I can get a word in, "is that you're going to be onstage with the Indigo-Go's in three days!" She breaks off into a squeal, grabs my arm and starts jumping like some insane fan, the kind of girl who actually terrifies me. When I respond with stunned silence and do not join her on her skipping trip, she then calms down and says, "The bad news is you have nothing to wear for the occasion."

Oh joy.

"I can't believe you're—Zelda, why are you so gloomy?"

I stare at Aryll and weakly say, "How am I supposed to appear with the Indigo-Go's? I don't know how to sing."

Aryll laughs. "It's not to sing. It's for your image. They'll treat you like a guest of honour."

I frown. "That's very kind of them."

Aryll furrows a brow and examines me suspiciously. "You don't exactly seem elated. You don't like the Indigo-Go's?"

"As a matter of fact," I say, all the while turning on my heel to head back towards Link's office, "I adore the Indigo-Go's. You might say they're my favourite band. You might also say I'm pissed that no one ever told me I'd have to pull off a stunt of this magnitude beforehand."

Aryll trails after me. She lets out a huff. "Well, it's not like my brother hasn't been extra busy trying to get you popular."

I glance back at her. "He's been laughing on the phone all morning. I fail to see how that is helping me."

Aryll stops in her tracks and her eyes widen. There's also the typical Forester grin on her lips. "You mean he didn't tell you?" She grabs my arm again and giggles excitedly. "I thought you knew! There's been a discovery yesterday of a hidden cache of odd mushrooms at Veran Black's mansion!"

Odd mushrooms… "You mean the drugs?"

"The illegal hallucinogens," Aryll says, with mirth-filled eyes. "The press has been having a field day."

"How come no one told me about this?"

Aryll shrugs. "I thought you knew already." She giggles. "Now Ganondorf Dragmire is completely embarrassed. To quote the _Hyrule Times_, the timing couldn't be worse. Think about it," she says conspiratorially. "His date has proven ties with illegal and immoral organisations. He's been trying to control the flood of negative rumours coming out of the newsrooms since yesterday."

It's hard to stay in a foul mood with news like this.

"So Veran Black is…"

"A criminal!" Aryll whispers, trying to contain her excitement and look solemn, but failing miserably. "Ganondorf Dragmire tried to detach himself from her, but no one really believes him. While he can still claim ignorance, he lost a couple of feathers."

This is wonderful news. But I still resent the fact that nobody ever tells me anything. We both reach Link's door again, and I say, "Please excuse me, Aryll, but I need to speak to your brother in private."

She frowns. "You look a bit frustrated."

She has no idea.

"I'm fine, but this matter is very important to me."

Aryll seems to understand vaguely. "Well, once you're done, I'll implore my brother to give you some time off tomorrow for some long overdue shopping downtown. You hardly had the time to visit the city, and it'd be a great occasion for you to hang out with your friends again."

I grin. "That's a great idea."

She smiles. "I'm good at finding those. Now go in there and kick his butt."

With that less-than-sisterly command, she leaves my side and goes back down the hall.

Well.

I enter Link's room. Again, I feel like I'm invading his private haven, although he doesn't seem to care who breaks into his room at any given time during the day. This should be alarming, but for some reason, it isn't.

When he sees me, he puts his phone down. He'd been about to dial another number, but now he's looking up interestedly. I have to remember why I'm here. How frustrating that he should look so guileless when I need to be mad at him.

"Zelda," he greets with a handsome smile. When he sees my expression, though, it melts a little to turn into a slightly worried frown. "Are you alright?"

I let out a breath. I won't lose my temper. I will calmly explain what upsets me. I won't freak out.

"Link…" I motion to the chair. "Can I sit?"

He nods and motions with his hand, all traces of his smile gone, replaced instead by mild concern.

I'm not stalling. I just don't think confrontation can be done appropriately when one person is sitting and the other is standing.

I begin carefully, "Aryll just told me about a certain concert with the Indigo-Go's."

He nods, apparently wondering what the problem is.

"I'd like to know why I was only notified of this three days ahead of the actual event, and by your sister no less. I would also like to know why no one bothered to tell me about Veran Black yesterday and about all the other events I was told about mere days before I had to deal with them. I'd like to know what other events are in store for me that I should be aware of."

Link's face dawns with embarrassed understanding.

He clears his throat and puts the phone he was holding on the desk surface carefully. "The reason I didn't tell you about the concert is quite honestly because I thought it'd be a nice surprise for you. I didn't think you'd consider it as something stressful, but rather as something fun. I apologize."

Alright, that works for this once, but, "Why didn't you tell me about all the other events before? And what else is there coming up?"

Link stretches an arm towards his palm pilot and switches it on. "I didn't tell you about the previous events because I thought you couldn't handle them." Before I can let my annoyance show, he hastily adds, "I know better now. As for why I had yet to update you with the upcoming events, it's because I've been mad busy." He's done searching for his schedule and planner.

I notice he's taking me seriously. Nothing soothes me more.

"Here's the drill," he says, reading off his planner. "Tomorrow, I'll be giving you some time off. I think Aryll has been stalking me for that, so I think you should hang out with your friends. You'll need time to relax for the final sprint."

I listen intently.

Link continues, "After tomorrow, you have an interview with Marjorie Majora. She's an _honest_ journalist, but she has a good reputation and won't try to destroy you or find scandals ―at least, none that would be bad for you. The day after is the concert with the Indigo-Go's on Market Square. It'll be an outdoor stage and a crowd of at least two thousand people. I already finished scheduling security with Darunia, so we're covered."

He raises his gaze after a short pause. Our eyes meet.

"You'll have a day with regular classes, and the next will be decision day, or D-Day, as Tetra has referred to it."

That's it? "That's it? I don't have any more events than that to turn the tables?"

Something akin to despair fills me slowly.

Link shuts his palm pilot off and reaches out to rub my upper arm comfortingly. "It's not that bad. Actually, it's better than you think."

He turns to grab a wad of paper. Newspaper.

"Look at this."

The front page is Ganondorf defending himself against claims that he's fostering the underground. A side article describes the dreadful effects of odd mushrooms.

The corners of my lips quirk up in spite of me.

"In case you've been wondering," Link teases, "I've been on the phone all day yesterday and today because polls say you're now leading in terms of popularity. Not by a lot, of course, but since Ganondorf has been sitting on his laurels for the past month, without making very sincere efforts to become better liked, you've been steadily climbing, and he's been far too stable for his comfort."

I look up at Link's handsome face. "I'm leading the race?" I can't hide my incredulity. You'd be shocked too, I'm sure.

"We're treading unsure grounds," Link says, and I can't help but admire how professional and comfortable he is about his job. "Our small advance might not be enough for you to gain momentum in the ministerial room, but it certainly can influence them. Still, the recent events couldn't… ah, well, they couldn't be better timed, really."

I notice his formulation and his tiny grin.

He's up to something. Or maybe he's already made his move.

"You didn't have anything to do with all this, did you?" I ask, because it seems like a reasonable question. Link has already proven he's a master in the sneakiness department.

He holds back a broader smile. "Zelda, just because I paid Vaati Winders to do some investigations doesn't mean I had a part to play in this story."

"I can't believe you had him do something like that."

Link's expression darkens just a little. "Well, it's not like the little bugger didn't deserve some amount of punishment. He _did_ interrupt one of our lessons."

I scoff. "Some lesson it was. We both got smashed and―" And Link had been about to suggest kissing, at least, if not more.

Ah, bugger. Vaati Winders really did deserve to risk his career, on second thought.

"I've been thinking," Link says, dragging me out of my brooding mood, "we should get mildly inebriated again. It was fun."

"It was only fun because we're such lightweights that we got the effects without even risking a hangover," I comment.

Link snickers to himself. "The truth of that statement is beyond embarrassing." Before I can add insult to injury, he casually changes the subject back to more important things, such as, "I don't know if I should get your hopes up just yet, but there's a chance that, with Veran Black under such close scrutiny, the public eye will turn to examine Onox Gorgon and Agahnim Veils, seeing as they are also close acquaintances of Ganondorf Dragmire. If that could actually happen, then we'd probably be rid of the two cretins as well."

"What are the odds of that happening?" I ask.

Link shrugs, but his smile doesn't look nearly that clueless. "Pretty high."

"And they also grow odd mushrooms in their backyards?"

"I wouldn't wager on odd mushrooms," Link says, returning to a careful and diplomatic expressionless face. "But I might bet on illegal weapon trade and prostitution."

"No kidding," I mumble. "Not, of course, that you've been investigating them for the past week, of course."

Because, actually, something tells me Link has been planning this for a good while.

He laughs. "You enjoy making assumptions, hm?" He puts his hands on his armrests to push himself up.

I watch him as he stands. "Who said they're assumptions? I'd have to be stupid not to see what sort of help you've been giving me from the shadows."

"It's my job," Link says, stretching his legs and arms. "And I categorically deny any involvement with yesterday's front page. Or any front page to come that does not directly involve you."

There's a silence. That's when I wonder, out loud, "Who hired you?" Because I really have to wonder. What kind of genius possibly could think of requesting Link's help? Whoever they are, they deserve eternal recognition.

I notice Link doesn't even look at me. I wonder if he heard me.

"Link, who ―?"

"Rauru."

"Rauru?"

Link turns to look at me. "He knew Ganondorf Dragmire and needed a way to keep him from taking the full power without at least someone to oppose him. He hired me to find someone. You know the rest."

"So… The government is paying for you? I mean, since Rauru―"

Link laughs. "Don't worry about it, Zelda. Rauru and I are working by contract. It's illegal to use government money to pay for an individual's services, unless they're directly employed by the state and have no other profession. He made a deal with my company… It's all paperwork."

As though he doesn't really care for the conversation we're having, he just crosses his arms, grabs his button-down shirt and pulls it over his head in one smooth motion.

Whoa.

Under his work shirt, he's wearing a tight white t-shirt. I could drool and swoon, or I could squeak and wonder why he suddenly discarded his shirt. Though he has hinted he would like to get drunk with me again, it's not like he exactly suggested we get down and dirty.

Not, as you can most certainly guess, that I would mind.

As though he just remembered I'm there, he turns to look back at me apologetically. "Sorry. It's just that this shirt is a bit too warm. Summer's right around the corner and the air conditioning has to be fixed."

"No problem," I say, trying not to squeak.

"So," he asks as he rummages through a chest of drawers, "how did you like the photo shoot with Din, Farore and Nayru?"

I shrug. "You were there."

Link snickers. It strikes me that he's lightened up since I first met him. He used to be so cool and professional. Now he's hot and professional. "I was there," he says, "but I noticed you were discussing a few things with them and making sure I couldn't overhear you."

Yes Link, that's because a discussion about how I want to jump your bones is the last thing I want you to hear.

"Oh, there's nothing major," I say instead. "I asked for their autographs. To thank Ralph."

Link furrows a brow. "Thank Ralph? For what?"

Good question. Oh, I don't know, maybe for keeping me around so I can enjoy the job of my life? Maybe for holding me back when I wanted to leave behind the hottest man alive? He deserves the tiniest thanks at least.

"Well, he—"

The phone interrupts me. It sounds shrilly on Link's desk, and he shoots me an apologetic look, picking it up with some annoyance. Something tells me he'd rather hear my explanation than talk on the phone.

"Link Forester. Speak up, it's your blink."

I can't help but grin at that a little. Leave it to Link to issue warnings to pranksters.

There's a moment of silence, and then Link's face breaks into a smirk. He glances at me and winks. I remind myself not to blush.

"Right," he says into the phone. "As long as the Times are on it, we're fine." There's a pause, and then Link laughs. "That's even better… Right… Hey, don't tell me how to do my job." Who's he talking to? "Din-dammit, Vaati, I'm not going to hire you," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "Stop asking… No, I'm not going to take any volunteers. I have enough things to oversee as it is… Yes, I—What the? … No."

Link glances at me and turns his eyes to the ceiling helplessly, as though pleading with the goddesses to help him. It seems Vaati has been harassing him since he found out Link is a publicist.

He probably is looking for a good article to write about palace life.

"Look, Vaati, I have other things to do. Thanks for the heads up, but― No, I don't." He sighs. "Don't you have some other poor sucker to stalk?"

I giggle, and I notice movement at the door. Aryll is back. She seems relieved that her brother is still in one piece and that I didn't rip him to bits. Hesitantly, she steps in, motioning towards Link and mouthing, to me, "You okay with him?"

I smile. The rule of thumb with Link is to be honest and to speak up. Apparently, Aryll seems relieved that I figured this out on my own.

"And has he showed any inclination to let you roam Marcastle in a relatively free way?" She asks in a low whisper, in order not to bother her brother whose argument on the phone is getting him annoyed.

Actually, at the moment, he's ranting to Vaati Winders about not allowing gossip magazines to interview his charge. I don't know whether I should feel stumped that he refers to me as a job or glad that I'm his priority.

Aryll, though, seems impressed. She observes her brother with a little grin.

To me, she says, "I rarely saw Link get so riled up about his jobs."

"Have you been watching him often?" I ask.

Aryll shrugs, smiling simply. "Before he moved to Marcastle, he would sometimes do business at home." She looks fondly at her brother without seeming concerned that he looks ready to unplug the phone maniacally. "This is the first time he gets directly involved in everything related to his charge. Usually, he just oversees interviews and public appearances."

"Like a press attaché."

Aryll nods. Before she can add another word, Link hangs up the phone with a strained sigh. Our attention turns to him. He seems to gather his wits, and then he shoots us both a smile, though I have the feeling he directs it more at me.

"Onox Gorgon and Agahnim Veils have been tracked and revealed."

What? That fast?

My shock seems to amuse Link. His grin broadens. "By some uncanny twist of fate," a sentence that roughly translates to 'I asked Vaati to do some snooping', "Agahnim Veils was proven to have committed financial fraud in a number of instances, which unfortunately constitutes a severe crime. The judgement will be consequential. As for Onox Gorgon, forgive my choice of words, but he was stupid enough to head directly into a whorehouse late last night. The whorehouse is actually title deed to his name." He looks at the ceiling and loudly wonders, "Is there no end to idiocy?"

"Apparently not," Aryll mumbles, looking clearly disgusted.

"Maybe Ganondorf Dragmire forgot to warn him not to reveal himself," I venture. All the while, I'm looking at Link and wondering where he got that brain of his.

Seriously. I know I wouldn't have thought of using gossip magazines, which until now have been doing nothing but harm to me, against my enemies. Besides, it's so indirect, no one will trace back to us.

The intelligence it takes to realise how much of a weapon written word can be is entirely Link's.

And now that only Ganondorf is left in the race, I feel like my chances have never been higher. All thanks to Link.

I really should start thinking about a way to thank him. One that doesn't involve my mouth on his, I mean, even though it's the only solution that comes to mind and my brain keeps going 'Yes, please, pretty please!'

I should find something tomorrow when I go shopping.

Wait. I have to call Malon, Anju and Ruto! For sure they'll want to come with me.

Link turns to me when I start heading for the door. "Oh, by the way, we're going to get visitors tomorrow from Termina. I already met them before, so don't worry about them being mean."

I nod. "Um… But what about shopping?" I don't mean to sound this desperate for a day out, but Link just laughs.

"You can take them along. I'm sure you'll enjoy their company."

Uh… Okay. Let's hope he knows what he's talking about…

Gods, who am I kidding? He always does.

* * *

**The sentence Link says when he answers the phone ("Speak up, it's your blink,") is a variant of the expression, "Speak up, it's your dime/quarter", that is used to remind pranksters that the one being pranked is not the one who is paying for the call, in order to eventually dissuade the pranksters from actually prank-calling more people.**

**Also, OMG PEOPLE FROM TERMINA! Yes. Wait another week or two, please.**

**And remember, _don't spoil anything_ (see top of page).**

**Please leave a word, alright?**

**Love,  
CM**


	21. Shopper

**Sorry for the long delay. Then again, long actually means a mere two weeks (I think I've spoiled you all too much). Those of you who read my blog know in much detail why I skipped last week's update. In fact, you know it in more detail than strictly necessary. I can only hope no one holds the info against me.**

**I still haven't played TP, by the way, so the previous chapter's warning still applies.**

**That said, please have fun.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Shopper"**

"You mean he took his shirt off and you didn't jump him?" Malon shrieks, making many innocent bystanders look our way.

Behind me, Darunia chuckles in obvious amusement.

I should be annoyed that I have to be followed by a bodyguard everywhere I go, but since Darunia is so nice, it doesn't matter.

That is, it wouldn't matter if Malon didn't feel the need to shout on the rooftops how much I pine after my publicist. If Darunia has been spared the gory details so far, it's really just thanks to plain luck. It's just a matter of time, though.

We're walking down Market Avenue. It's the most fashionable street in Marcastle and it leads directly to Market Square. Market Avenue has all the designer shops and the boutiques are practically museums in honour of clothing. When they're not busy telling me I should jump Link's bones, Malon and Ruto seem to be in heaven.

At my side, hanging onto my arm, is Anju. She's dreamily examining the sunny store windows. On my other arm is Aryll, clinging excitedly, having insisted on coming to ensure I chose the perfect clothes for my stage appearance.

But right now I'm focused on the two other young women with us. They're walking behind us and before Darunia, giggling about our antics.

The eldest of the two is Cremia Hands, grand duchess of Termina, though it's only a symbolic title. She's definitely pretty. She reminds me of Malon, but gentler. She's soft-spoken, extremely mature, and she has a silent sort of good-humour, the kind that makes you like her instantly. She has Anju's maturity, actually.

Next to her is Romani Hands, also grand duchess, a girl approximately Aryll's age, whose attitude reminds me of an excited puppy. She presented herself this morning with a broad grin and a claim that she was allowed to act stupid if she wanted to, since she was on vacation. She also seems more than eager to help Aryll pick out clothes for me.

The two are from Termina. Considering that Termina is a democratic country, their titles as throne heirs are symbolic. They kept the lineage alive, but stepped back to allow their country a fairer democratic system, occasionally overseeing national debates and fair power use. Not, I can see, that it keeps them from sleeping at night. They're very nice, just like Link said they'd be.

Actually, Link had to stay at the palace today, explaining that he had some rumour management to handle. I didn't press him. It's not like I want him to hear Malon's comments, after all.

At any rate, I will not let anyone discuss my non-relationship with Link.

"I don't intend to jump him," I tell Malon, in spite of the fact that we both know I'm lying, "because in case this has slipped your mind, he's my publicist and our relationship is one of respect and professionalism." I'm saying this mostly for Aryll's sanity, considering that she seems mildly disgusted by the idea of her brother being anywhere near sexy.

Even though, you know, his picture is in the dictionary to define the word.

"Yeah right," Malon mumbles teasingly, turning around just to shoot me a smirk, "because you obviously don't wish he'd give you a full body massage with his tongue."

I gasp indignantly and let go of Anju's arm temporarily to give Malon a tiny slap on the shoulder. Beside me, Aryll is scrunching her nose in distaste. I look back at Cremia and Romani to roll my eyes and ensure that they realise this is just friendly banter and in no way a reason to call the press. They seem to understand.

In retaliation, I say, "Like you're one to talk. I'm not the one who's been secretly sucking face with the stable boy."

Instead of denying this claim, which is met by hoots and loud squeals, Malon laughs and says, "Sheik Strike is more of a professional rider than a mere stable boy."

This causes the jokingly scandalized laughter of our whole group. Aryll lets out a loud giggle. "I am so telling him you said that!"

Malon seems to cool down after this, and reddens prettily. "Well, it's not like he doesn't know," she stammers.

Ruto turns back to look at me, then grins broadly. "Nice one."

I smirk back. I wouldn't be nearly this relaxed if Darunia hadn't promised all our conversations would remain a professional secret. Gods forbid Link should hear about any of this. It's bad enough that Aryll overheard us talking about her brother already.

"On to more important matters, ladies," Ruto suddenly says. "Not that discussing your respective sweethearts is of no relevance, of course."

We stop in front of the Temple of Time, on the forecourt. I look up at it for the first time.

Inside is where the coronation is supposed to be held. I don't know yet if I'll become Hyrule's queen, but I can guess this place calls for something grandiose. The façade is intricately carved in white stone. It was aged and eaten away a bit by pollution, but I can see the cleaning scaffolds. At least they washed off the black and grey of exhaust from the stone with power-jets.

A huge stained glass rose window on the front catches the bright sunlight. I can already imagine how the multicoloured shafts of light hit the cool white stone floor inside, and the stillness and reverence that seem so out of place in such a bustling place of Marcastle.

In fact, the ancient building seems out-of-place on such a lively and modern avenue. On this building, no lights, no logos, no ads. It seems untouched and safe.

It's beautiful.

Ruto has gathered us all in a circle with a grave look. It almost seems as though we're about to prepare a military expedition. Even though we're just supposed to be shopping.

"Now let's make a list of what we need to retrieve." Retrieve. Hah.

"Clothes for Zelda to wear to her concert!" Aryll pipes up excitedly.

"I want to visit the Fairy Shop," I simply say.

"And Wattemples," Malon adds.

The list goes on, but we start with the Fairy Shop, since it's closest to where we are. There's something to be said, besides, about glow balls and winged creatures. Everything is decorated in cheery colours and nature themes. The shop itself feels more like a shrine to fays than a store for trademarked items.

Since the shop is divided into different areas, we spent a lot of time in the Perceptions booth. It's a kiosk where you can test the latest Fairy perfume and get a preview of their upcoming brand of chocolate. You're then asked to fill in a report on how good the products are in your opinion.

Other areas are dedicated to stuffed animals or desk items. In that section, I realised that of all the notepads available, Link definitely chose the cutest Fairy notepad on the shelves. I even checked the price tag, and it turned out to cost thirty-five rupees! For a notebook!

"He doesn't spare expenses, does he?" Anju comments, and if I didn't know her better, I'd swear she sounds sly.

In the end, Aryll and Romani wind up purchasing a plush cuckoo, an alien puppet, a Fairy bookmark and two assorted Fairy pens.

"You got ripped off," Malon tells them with a grin, causing them to smile right back.

"We don't care," Aryll says.

Romani smirks. "At least we can prove we were in Marcastle and tried the Fairy Shop."

"Right," Cremia says. "And you bought a stuffed cuckoo."

"You're just upset because it's cuter than you," Romani teases, taking the plush chicken out and shaking it in her sister's face.

The antics continue until we reach Wattemples. The store is Ruto's favourite. I can't blame her: the whole place exudes style.

Unfortunately for us country freaks, the concept of museum shopping is completely new and intimidating. Let me explain. Museum shopping was created mostly due to the fact that renowned and expensive designer stores make their shops into fashion museums: please be silent and do not touch under any circumstance. The salespeople also have a way of gauging you that completes the unwelcome atmosphere. This sort of subconscious message makes it hard for anyone to actually want to stay long enough to buy anything.

Well, you know. Romani and Cremia are rich and titled, so they're used to it. Ruto's father has money, and she was in here before, so nothing is new to her, but whatever. I still feel like an intruder.

Except… I'm actually supposed to be welcome here. I'm the possible future queen, after all.

An elderly and uptight looking manager seems to recognise me, though. Instantly, the whole staff greets us with smiles and extreme courtesy. It's princess this, your highness that, and it's all enough to make me blush.

Then again… how fake.

"Don't worry about it," Cremia whispers to me as we are ushered up the stairs. "With time you'll get used to this sort of treatment."

I'm still debating whether that's a good thing or not when a saleslady shows up with what she calls the 'autumn collection'. This sends the whole of our group into a fit of excited squeals and inspires us awed comments. It also causes Darunia to mumble about going to chat with the Wattemples security guard.

"This fall," the saleslady says, "pastels and copper tones are the new black."

She shows us vests, coats, shirts, pants, skirts, and for nearly forty-five minutes, we're completely preoccupied with trying them on. Ultimately, Anju settles on a skirt in dark orange and copper; Ruto buys a coat, and I buy a whole set: pants, shirt, belt, vest and coat. I pay it with a credit card Link gave me. He assured me I wouldn't be taking Hyrule's money.

I trust him, but I also swore to repay any of my expenses with my inheritance money. So far my father's fortune has remained untouched, after all.

"You don't suppose those clothes were overpriced?" Malon asks when we finally emerge from Wattemples, a tired Darunia in tow. I notice her looking at our bags with envy. She doesn't have the kind of money it takes, and though I offered to buy her something, she said she would never be able to repay me, and that she couldn't accept owing me money.

"Not buying anything would have been rude," Ruto calmly states.

Malon, I can see, feels the natural need to respond to that, but she suddenly notices another store and perks up. "Oh! Forhaven!" and hurries into it.

Forhaven is one of those slightly more mainstream stores where young women tend to gather in large clusters. I try to figure out how else to describe it, but that's really it. It's like a magnet for shopaholics.

It doesn't take long for us to raid the summer dresses stand. Malon winds up buying a light pink, off-shoulder, knee-length dress, while Cremia opts for a square neck one with a vest to cover her bare arms.

That's when Aryll exclaims, "Zelda, you don't have clothes for the concert yet!"

The statement initiates a new stampede towards Maples. Maple, I remember, is the designer from Holodrum who created my dress for the function some time ago. She opened a small store in Marcastle before trying the greater fashion market of Calatia, and she modestly named it after herself, though one might argue that the addition of one letter makes a whole difference.

Bah, humbug.

For half an hour, the girls pick out some dresses for me to try out, playing on the fact that I'm the possible future queen, which of course has the saleslady completely in awe of our group.

"You really do look like a princess," Romani finally sighs when I choose a dress-pants suit. Her cobalt blue eyes examine my choice with some amusement and cynicism. "Though I can't see why you're not jumping at the occasion to purchase thousand blinks ball gowns every occasion you get."

This causes Darunia to snort in laughter. I ignore him.

"Stupidity," I assure her even as the saleslady takes my credit card with reverence, "and an age-old instinct for financial survival."

"Oh please," Ruto mumbles, eyeing a gorgeous dress that was left on a mannequin at the last minute because I reasoned I didn't need it so why was everyone pressuring me into it?! "You're rich now."

I smirk at Ruto's discomfited gaze. She's such a fashion whore. To Romani, I conclude, "Old habits die hard."

"I don't blame you," Anju comments looking down at her Wattemples bag with both joy and doubt. "I don't think my bank account will like today's excursion."

"Whatever," Malon butts in. "Over my dead body are you retracting that purchase. I might borrow it from you."

Cremia and Anju exchange hopeless yet amused glances.

When we all walk out of Maples, Darunia gallantly transporting my purchase box, I look at the numerous signs of other stores, pondering our next raid.

"So many shops, so little time," I whimper.

"You tell me," Aryll acquiesces with poetic sadness, which, in light of our dilemma, is both fitting and comical.

"Wasn't it, 'So many men, and so little time'?" Malon asks, furrowing a brow when we begin to amble slowly down the sidewalk.

"It is," I smile. "But who cares for men when you have shops to raid?"

"Right," Malon squeaks. "This is me leaving you to jump Sheik Strike's bones instead." She jokes, but she's not stepping away.

"I knew you were hooked on men, but I can't believe you'd drop your best friends and shameless money spending to be with some stable boy," Ruto teases.

"Didn't we settle on the fact that Sheik Strike is more than a stable boy?" I ask. Aryll grabs my arm and makes a face, like she can't believe we're talking about this.

"The things you girls say are gossip material the likes of which would sell magazines all over the world." She grins devilishly. "Now if Link hadn't sworn me to secrecy, I'd be rich."

"Ooh," Malon coos amusedly. "The publicist protects his charge even though he could get inside news on how sexy he is? How gallant."

"Maybe he does it to protect his own sanity," Romani jokes.

"Or he simply doesn't know what he's missing," Cremia suggests.

Or he just knows it already, I think. He knows everything, it's not like he's unconscious of his perfection. If he were unawares, he'd probably not be as confident and…

"Maybe he'll end up hearing it though the press won't," Darunia comments, and we fall silent.

Whoops. It just occurred to me that Darunia has a point. Link is entitled to information. Just because Aryll and Darunia swore not to tell the press doesn't mean…

"You know, Darunia," Aryll comments after a long and a bit nervous silence, "you just revealed our only blackmail material right there."

"Blackmail!" Malon shrieks hysterically, though her face is straining against a large grin. "Blackmail! Shame on you!"

"Oh now," Ruto says with a teasing cringe, as though she has to admit that Darunia and Aryll just proved they could be as sneaky and crafty as her. "That's a cruel threat, Mr. Rocks. Could you really withstand the idea of ruining Zelda's chances with her sexy publicist forever?"

I can't believe she just said that. I am going to kill her.

Darunia doesn't answer. Aryll looks positively disgusted, hopefully not by the idea of being my sister-in-law.

"At any rate," she says, "I'm not the one who's going to spill the beans to my brother about how he's…"

"The most gorgeous god in existence?" Ruto helpfully supplies, amused by Aryll's clear dismay. We all laugh when Aryll grimaces, imploring us to stop saying such twisted things about her brother, claiming there's something very wrong about her sibling being the object of women's lust.

In sympathy, Cremia passes an arm around Aryll's shoulders.

"Don't you worry," she says. "It's just friendly teasing."

"Except it's founded on reality," Romani adds, causing her elder sister to roll her eyes.

"You know," I break in, uncomfortable with hearing the girls discuss Link this way, "let's stop talking about this. We should try out Reefs for—"

"Lingerie?" Malon teases.

It's true Eye Reefs is best known for its suggestive clothing and high-quality undergarments, but, "Actually, I was thinking about raiding their dress racks. I figure something hip, clean but still sexy will do the trick for the show. Because Maples was a bit too princess-y for a jazz-rock concert."

"Loud and clear," Ruto agrees. "Let's find you a baby-doll to woo your publicist with."

Okay, so she didn't listen to me at all.

"Ruto," I screech, alarmed by the clear misunderstanding, "I am not trying to get in bed with Link Forester!"

Cross your fingers, Zelda, and pray they won't notice you are desperately lying.

"Oh, sweetie," Anju says comfortingly, "You don't have to hide it. The two of you would be very cute together. If you had more nerve and actually made a move."

Ah crud. If this was supposed to make me feel better, it sucks.

Romani and Aryll just shove me into the store without much reverence, and promptly save me from more teasing. I can only be grateful, because really, this outing isn't supposed to be stressful to me. It's supposed to be a way for me to relax between one hectic event and another.

I should have just stayed in bed. Sleep was never stressful, and it never teased me about wanting to jump my publicist. Much.

Unless you count that one time where…

"Ooh my gods," Aryll exclaims, grabbing my arm and dragging me across the store. She apparently spotted some—

Oh my gods.

Ooh, no.

"No," I categorically say. I try to dig my heels into the floor to slow her down, but Aryll's strength is impressive when she's determined. Plus, it doesn't help that I'm wearing sandals and that we're walking on a varnished hardwood floor. I eventually just look like I'm jet skiing and she's towing me.

Whimper.

"Aryll," I say when Romani squeals excitedly and runs ahead of us, "Aryll, no. I will not submit to any show of strength. I will not be bent on this matter."

Which is kind of ironic considering that she's basically towing me along without any resistance, no matter how much of it I'm trying to put up. When did teenagers get so strong? I know if I'd been this powerful back in high school, my gym grades might have actually been better than they actually were. Imagine all the push-ups I could have managed!

Just thinking about it makes me tired.

"This is for your own good," Aryll claims. "Just because I don't enjoy hearing sick humour about my brother doesn't mean I don't want the two of you to get together."

Oh. Great. Aryll is a matchmaker.

It's nice to know I have her approval though.

Not that I'm going to get with my publicist, because he's my publicist and because I'm the future queen and―

"It's only sick humour to you," Romani comments. To me, she says, "Besides, you need to lose that uncertainty. _This_ is a wonderful way for you to do just that."

"I refuse to try on lingerie," I declare categorically. "I have standards and they're not going to be lowered just because you think it'll get my publicist―"

"Who happens to be the Hunk of the Century," Malon cuts in, having dived in after us.

"―into bed with me," I finish, but then I frown. "Hunk of the Century?"

"Well," Ruto agrees, "he is. I'd have snagged him myself if you weren't so obviously meant for each other."

"Oh, right," I say, sarcastically, wondering why such flimsy pieces of fabric could possibly cost so much and if Link would like that pale blue one Malon's holding out― Oh, gods. "Thank you so much, Ruto. I needed to know you're going to catch him like a vulture."

"Please," she says, rolling her eyes. "Such manliness mustn't be wasted."

Aryll lets out an exasperated sigh. I grab her arm and look at her pleadingly.

"Please," I beg, "don't force me to do this."

This dissipates her annoyance and causes her to laugh. Things aren't looking well for me.

A bright pink piece of what I suppose is meant to act as underwear is shoved in my face. Beyond it are Malon's overly enthusiastic face and Darunia's extreme amusement.

Well, bugger.

"You have the choice. Either you make the appropriate moves to get your publicist in love with you or we embarrass you and ruin your chances of ever getting a man. Ever."

I stare at Ruto with a suspicious and a bit frightened look. "And how will you do that, pray tell?"

Ruto shoots me a knowing look. "I have yet to forget the episode of Mr. Knuckle."

Oh. Shit.

"That," I exclaim, "is unfair and cruel!"

"Who's Mr. Knuckle?" Aryll asks, morbidly curious.

Ruto and Malon exchange another knowing look, but thankfully they say nothing. Sure, they're holding that episode over my head in obvious blackmail and I think that as long as I live they'll be willing to use it against me, but as long as they don't actually reveal it to the world…

Well, I should be fine.

"Who's Mr. Knuckle?" Romani asks too, when none of us answers her.

Anju, who until then has been very quiet, says, slowly, "It's a valid threat and it will most certainly make her move within the next week."

This sentence hangs ominously over us. Well, over me, really, because everyone else is just amused or perplexed.

Aw, crud.

Aryll breaks the silence by asking, "Do you think my brother knows about Mr. Knuckle, whoever he is?" Because she clearly hopes to learn it from him and the prospect makes me feel ill.

"No one knows about Mr. Knuckle," Malon says, a big grin spreading over her features slowly.

"Yet," Ruto adds, threateningly.

Maybe fate wishes to spare me, because Darunia's phone rings right then. We all glance at him, having forgotten that he was a witness to our insanity. He shoots us an apologetic look and lifts his phone to his ear.

"Yeah?"

Cremia leans towards me and whispers, "Where did he get those arms?"

I shrug and whisper, "I don't know. I think he was born with muscle power."

Meanwhile, Darunia is listening intently to his caller, his face neutral. Eventually, he smiles and says something about transmitting the message. He shuts his phone. We all wait for him to speak.

"Time to head home, everyone," he says. "Sorry to interrupt your spree, but Link says a special dinner has been organized for our guests from Termina." He nods and smiles at both Cremia and Romani, who look a bit embarrassed.

Oh. Right.

"How did he know we were tormenting you?" Aryll mumbles, pouting. "He always cuts the fun short."

The more I think about it, the more Link is turning out to be the best man on earth. Considering how biased I am, I think that I'm lining myself up for a painful letdown.

Not that, right now, I care.

"Let's just leave the lingerie shop, shall we?"

"Dammit."

* * *

**Before anyone asks, do not expect to actually find out what the Mr. Knuckle episode is. Just keep in mind that Knuckle is the name of the Iron Knuckle _or_ one of Tingle's brothers. Either way, I'll let your imagination run wild.**

**Wattemples is a name derived from the Water Temple (_Ocarina of Time_). Forhaven is from Forest Haven (_The Wind Waker_), and Eye Reefs refers to the six reefs in TWW (One Eyed Reef, Two Eyed Reef, etc.).**

**Oh, and if you noticed that Romani purchased an alien puppet from the Fairy Shop, it's actually a reference to the alien attack on the Night of the First Day in _Majora's Mask_.**

**Questions or comments you'd like me to respond to? Leave a signed review, a PM or email me. You can choose not to sign, though, but don't expect me to answer back!**

**So... review!**

**Love,  
CM**


	22. Diplomat

**IMPORTANT: **I have just gotten TP.** This does **not** mean that you are free to discuss spoilers in your reviews, out of respect for other readers. Also, for the same reason, updates will come slowly from now on.**

**The story is still ongoing. It will just slow from one update per week to, say, one update per two weeks. Any and all whiners will be scoffed at, because frankly, I think I've given you a pretty good deal up to now. ;P**

**Anyway, this is chapter 22. I have nothing to say about it beforehand, so just enjoy it.**

**... Heehee.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Diplomat"**

Cremia and Romani didn't come alone.

It's something Link explained to me. Though the sisters are grand duchesses and would have become empresses of Termina, their titles are merely symbolic due to their country's democratic system.

And, Link reasoned, if they're not ruling over Termina, someone else has got to do it.

That someone is Mr. Barthelemy Dotour. He's the president of Termina and one of those invited to the coronation. He's of a ripe age, with weak and tired features and dark hair that is greying unevenly. He's far from handsome, with those unpronounced eyes, and his lithe frame is far from imposing. Still, his presence conveys something official and, thankfully, well intended.

I shake his hand with a smile. His hand is small and a bit bony, but his grip is firm.

"Miss Harkinian," he acknowledges with a nod. "I hope you're having a pleasant day."

I am, I consider. This morning's shopping spree got rid of most of my stress ―not including the friendly threats I suffered― and woke me up properly. Now I can focus.

"I am, thank you."

Mr. Dotour smiles. He extends a hand to his side. "Allow me to present you―"

That's when a colossal woman steps forward, practically shoving the tiny man out of the way. She grabs my hand with her own thick and ornamented fingers.

"Aroma Dotour, darling." She pulls me to her massive breasts and kisses both of my cheeks wetly. "I am _so_ happy to finally meet you, dear."

Madame Aroma, as people call her, is really monumental. That's the only word I can think of to define her. She also makes for an extravagant wife, considering how unlike each other she and Mr. Dotour happen to be. Still, there seems to be some companionable affection between the two. That is, at least, enough to have procured them a son.

Kafei Dotour, for some reason, inherited handsome genes from gods-know-where. His hair and features take after his father, minus the frailty of Dotour senior. Instead, he's built thin but strong, and he's as tall as his mother.

He's Anju's age, and he's really cute.

And he's really gallant, I mentally add when he greets me with a nod and a kiss to the hand.

I glance at Malon, Ruto and Anju, who are standing to the side. Link invited them to stay, for once, so they did. They're grinning broadly beside him.

My mind goes back to their threat. How can they possibly expect me to make a move on Link within the next week? That's preposterous and foolish. It's like begging to be put back in my place. Frankly, I can't see how Link and I could possibly pursue a romantic relationship, considering our all-important business relationship.

That's assuming Link feels the same, besides, and I've never been good at figuring men out anyway.

The only safe way to make a move on him would have to be to figure out how he feels and going from there.

Unfortunately, considering our previously stated business relationship, the chances of him ever revealing his true feelings for me are next to nonexistent. This obviously means I'll have to coerce it out of him.

But… how?

Kafei lifts his lips from my hand with a polite smile. He glances at Cremia and Romani, his eyes lighting up in pleased recognition. He seems to be familiar with them, which isn't surprising. He exchanges greetings and pleasantries with them, though I don't actively participate in the conversation because Link just accosted me.

"How was your morning?" He asks.

For a moment, I'm scared that Darunia or Aryll spilled the beans. That would be so cruel! But Link looks completely guileless and genuinely interested.

There's hope he won't find out about me loving him shamelessly.

"It was really nice," I say. "Cremia and Romani are very sweet." When they're not teasing me about loving you, that is.

"I'm glad to hear it," he smiles.

I remember when we first travelled together and he asked me if I was excited. I remember he'd been distant and uncaring.

I like this Link Forester better. This Link Forester is efficient and professional, but kind and funny and relaxed. I wish I knew what this Link Forester thinks of me. I wish things weren't so ambiguous.

"―good to know you're getting along with people of your new class."

I focus on what he's saying again just in time. I nod and smile. If he noticed me zoning out, he says nothing about it. I wonder if he really thinks I can surpass Ganondorf. Will a victory on my part surprise him? Impress him? It's impossible to tell, but I want to win, just so I can find out.

"Zelda," Romani calls, "why don't you introduce your friends to the Dotours?"

She snaps me out of my reverie for good. I smile and step forward, leaving Link to observe from the sidelines.

While Mr. Dotour looks officious, both Kafei and Madame Aroma look genuinely interested ―is Kafei checking Anju out?

Shrugging the thought off, I say, "With pleasure. These are my friends, Malon London, Ruto Watters and Anju Stoke. Anju is also from Termina."

Kafei seems to find this interesting. He steps forward to nod his head at them.

Is Anju checking Kafei out? I don't blame her. He's really quite handsome…

"And how did you meet?" Aroma inquires, politely curious.

When they learn that we are childhood friends and that Anju was my guardian until very recently, Kafei looks at Anju with newfound interest and respect. He compliments her on her big heart.

You'd think Anju would resist such obvious flattery or something, but apparently not.

Oh my gods. Anju and Kafei are interested in each other!

... I think I just figured out how to get Link to talk.

It's simple, but it'll demand guts. Considering that I have no reason to be anxious though, as I've got nothing to lose, that's a problem I can easily shove aside.

"Well, well, if it isn't Kafei Dotour."

We all turn to Ralph. He greets us with a grin, winks at me without subtlety, and heartily shakes Kafei's hand, greeting Madame Aroma with a warm hug. She blushes with pleasure at his practiced compliments.

"Long time no see," Ralph comments to Kafei.

"I'll say."

My main priority, I consider, is to find someone who will willingly help me and still play natural. Someone who wants something I can afford to give in exchange; someone who will agree to my nonsense.

"What happened last time?" Kafei is asking Ralph. "You left in a hurry."

Ralph gazes at our guest flatly. "You started talking in riddles. It didn't feel quite right."

Or, of course, someone who simply wants to toy with Link.

No. No, not Ralph. He's not my style and he's already done too much for me. Besides, he's been jokingly hitting on Aryll, so he's already toying with Link without my intervention.

I notice a smile on Kafei's lips. He's been glancing at Anju for the past five minutes.

Now _this_ is something I can play on. I just have to snag Kafei before he makes a move on Anju, because here's my reasoning: you can't get my friend without deserving it, even if you're Termina's president's son. You have to work for the reward.

And what better way to be rewarded than to help me make Link jealous?

All right. I know. It sounds stupid. It's the sort of thing you see in movies and it always resolves itself by having the love interest snap and declare their undying passion, thus making everything end well.

I don't expect as much from this admittedly stupid, immature and desperate plan. Rather, the point of making Link 'jealous' is to find out if he actually cares enough to be jealous in the first place, not to make him react with despair and love. I'm not pretentious enough to expect that. He's managed to keep his true opinions under wraps so far, or maybe I just don't see them, but either way, I need to know, before I make a move on him, if there's the slightest hope we could be more.

At this point, I figure professionalism can be thrown away. It isn't my thing for now. Besides, if anything, I want to know how he feels before any possible coronation, in case I need to elope with him and abandon my duties.

Hah. I wish.

Besides, he's the first man to ever make me feel genuinely appreciated and cared about. Malon, Ruto and Anju's threat is only secondary, really, an excuse.

So… Hello there, Mr. Kafei Dotour. Consider yourself my new best friend.

Now, obviously, I wish I could say I know how to seduce someone into following my stupid plans without them realizing it, but I've not yet acquired that level of sneakiness.

I'm actually impressed by my conviction skills because the next thing I know, at least, I'm standing aside with Kafei and he's amusedly nodding in agreement. I didn't even have to beg. Much. Apparently he's known Link ever since Link started working in political publicity, and he's been dying to crack Link's eternal professionalism. In a way, it's good to know I'm not the only one.

At least he's very smart and, I think, just as sneaky as Ralph. The main difference between the two hunks is that where Ralph boasts, Kafei merely smirks. It's like his craftiness is just an ace up his sleeve, to be used whenever convenient. Like now, for instance.

"It's about time someone tried getting him to react," he says softly. That's another difference between Kafei and Ralph. Ralph is loud and obnoxious. Kafei is soft spoken but intense.

Either way, I'm glad he agreed to my stupid plan. Sure, I might have promised him a date with Anju, but he didn't _have_ to go along with it. He's hot enough to get his own date.

Whatever.

"So. I have to take up a role typically played by your publicist in order to…" He trails off with an eloquent look.

Um. Yeah. "Right. I promise I won't force you to do weird stuff or anything. Just… pretend to teach me something simple. Like how to ballroom dance. He was supposed to teach me, but if you do it―"

"I'll take the floor from under his feet." He raises his brows. "Interesting ploy. Though ballroom dancing is far from simple."

I sigh. "Please?"

He looks amused. "You know the guy has become a workaholic when the future queen, who happens to be blessed with looks, brains, humour and a girl-next-door attitude, has to make up sneaky plots to actually get his attention."

I can't help a blush. Kafei rolls his eyes.

"Please," he murmurs when a lot of people begin to notice we've been standing aside for a long while, "enough bashfulness." He smirks. "I'm your new teacher, is that right?"

With that, before I can even add anything else, he's taken my arm and is taking me to a side room ―I keep getting astonished by how many side reception rooms this palace contains― and says, loudly enough that everyone else can hear him, "Back straight. Left hand on my shoulder."

I can see, out of the corner of my eye, how everyone is gathering at the door to look at us with curiosity. Malon and Ruto seem perplexed, Anju looks a bit disappointed, Aryll looks sceptical, Ralph seems amused, and Cremia and Romani are doing their best to distract the Dotours.

Where's Link? I want to see how he's—

Kafei takes my right hand in his. "Take a step closer to me." With those words, he's pulling so I'm flush against him.

Flush is the word. Just because I'm in love with Link doesn't mean I can't appreciate a hot body.

Kafei seems amused. "You're probably the last girl of your status to blush."

I prickle at this. "What, is it going out of style?"

He just chuckles.

"Take a breath. I'll suggest a step forward. You'll move your right leg back to accept it. One." He moves. I follow. "Two. Three."

I whisper curiously, "Where did you learn this?"

He seems amused, making me practice the back step, one, two, three, again. "Who do you think accompanied Cremia to her debutante ball?"

"What's a debutante?"

At this, he laughs outright. He's got bright brown eyes, bordering on the red, contrasting with his deep black hair. "You're certainly something new, aren't you?"

I can't help but look worried. "You won't hold it against me, will you? I learned how to govern properly and everything. It's not like I'm completely incompetent."

He grins. "With a regular teacher like Forester, I fail to see how you could be less than capable."

"Thanks for the compliment, Dotour."

I turn my head, and I see Link. He's examining us flatly. I didn't see him coming up so close to us, but judging from Kafei's lack of surprise, he noticed him beforehand.

Behind him, I can see that Malon has caught on to my plan. She is now giggling excitedly and sharing the observation with Ruto, who has to leave the room to keep from squealing.

Still, Kafei doesn't let go of me. He's got the whole thing down pat. You'd think he has practice or something. He smiles and says, "Spoken from the heart, old friend."

"I'm sure," Link responds politely. "And may I inquire, what are you both attempting, exactly?"

Kafei manages to look completely guileless. I can't believe this. He's even better than me at feigning an almost childish innocence. It's crazy. "Why, your pupil and future queen asked me to help her with dance steps. I thought I'd be doing her a service. You don't mind, right?"

I can see Link wants to say something, but then he glances at Mr. Barthelemy Dotour and Madame Aroma, and decides for a pleasant, "Right. Teach away." Though I notice he sends me a sharp glance and an ironic little smirk as he steps back.

Oh, screw you, Link Forester, you bastard.

I smile sweetly then I ask, to Kafei, "What about forward steps?"

And a minute later, I'm brushing my leg up against Kafei as we alternate between our simple forward and backward steps. He makes me turn once, and I notice in the twirl that Link hasn't stopped looking at us.

"You've got the attention," Kafei breathes, low enough that I only I can hear him. "Time to create the desire."

Right. Time to turn up the heat.

I pause our practice. By now, Aryll, who noticed our little game, has suggested that the Dotour parents leave the room for tea. I couldn't be more grateful, because I cannot predict what is about to happen next and I would like my upcoming actions to be kept under locks as long as possible.

"Sorry, Kafei," I smile. "It's just that it's a warm day. Give me a second."

I slowly remove my thin wool cardigan and drop it on the chair next to Link, who is now staring so intently at me that I could probably call it a glare. I'm now just wearing a clean little sleeveless dress.

If I were any good at reading body language, I'd say he's frustrated that I gave his official duties to someone else.

But I'm not sure that is actually jealousy. Oh well. Too bad for him.

"You look lovely," Kafei says honestly and pleasantly. I'm pretty sure he said that to annoy Link as well. "I'm sure you rival the Godly Trio."

I can't help a giggle. "So they told me."

His lips pull up at the corners. "Now, with a little step and a turn, you'll let me lead you from behind."

"Like this?" I can't help but grin a little. Faking flirt is almost too easy. I turn on my toe and end up with my back against his front, our hands still held together by the fingers.

I wonder if maybe I wouldn't have been better off enjoying this lesson with Link after all.

Oh, well. Too late to turn back. I can't exactly be sad. It's like I'm going from one hot guy's attentions to another's care. A sane girl won't complain, you know.

"One, two, three again," Kafei says into my ear. "Close your eyes, do it by instinct."

I close my eyes. His lesson is actually helpful. I'm getting the feel of basic dance steps like I'm in an actual dance class.

"One, two, three. Back. One, two, three. Forward."

Eventually he stops telling me the cues. We just manage the dance steps in silence. A twirl. He catches my left hand when I accidentally let go because I turned a little too fast.

His hands are warm.

The thought makes me flush. I think maybe we should tone down the joke, because this isn't what I wanted. I wanted to make Link jealous. Not to get warm for Kafei. I don't love Kafei.

I open my eyes. I see Ruto, Malon, Aryll, Ralph, and even Anju, looking in amusement back at me as Kafei ushers them out the door, asking them to be quiet.

… Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

If Kafei is over _there_ ushering them out, then who is it holding my hands right _here_?

…

Oh. My. Gods. Oh my gods.

This is not happening.

I can't seem to formulate a sentence, much less a single word. Before I can call for help, they're gone and I'm left all alone with the one guy whose wrath I fear most at the moment.

Oh gods. Thanks, Kafei. Thanks a whole bunch.

"So what exactly was that all about?" I hear Link ask from behind me. He hasn't let go of my hands and is still swaying to unheard music.

I can't seem to speak normally. When I do, my voice is a bit more high-pitched than it should be. "Um… what?"

Oh. Way smooth, Zelda. Congratulations. You win this year's most eloquent speaker prize.

Link makes me turn. I'm facing him again, but he's still stubbornly swaying the two of us to silent music. His eyes are way too blue with the sunlight hitting them like that. "What was all that dancing thing with Kafei about, exactly?"

"Why did you replace him? He was doing just fine."

"You didn't answer my question."

I try to stop swaying, but he steps forward. Reflexively, I step back, and we're on another waltz.

"Scared I couldn't teach you dance moves properly?"

He sounds slightly upset.

I frown. "No. But he was nice and I thought I could get to know him better this way."

Maybe I shouldn't still be playing the false-interest ploy, but at this point, I have nothing left to lose. If Link wants to be angry with me because I spend time with another guy, he's not exactly a dream guy after all.

"You didn't think you'd get to know him at dinner or something a little less exclusive?"

Whoa. I would swear that sounds like a wounded boyfriend speech. Except Link doesn't get wounded that easily and he's not my boyfriend.

Also, I'm an awful judge where guys are concerned. Maybe I'm misinterpreting it. Maybe he's just frustrated because my flirting with Termina's first son could damage my reputation.

I really hope that's not it, but knowing Link and his ways, it's far too likely for my comfort.

"So what if I danced with him? You said on the flight here that dancing is a great way to nurture a positive diplomacy."

"And taking your cardigan off too, I presume?"

Oh. So he _did_ notice. Fun.

"Well, it _is_ a warm day."

I mean, just feel those hands of his. They're scalding hot over my fingers.

Speaking of my fingers, he lets go of them now. I meet his gaze and he looks down at me in exasperation.

Uh-oh. That's not exactly the look of a man dying to tell me about his hidden and passionate love and jealousy at the thought of me being with another man. It's not the look of a man about to ravish me with kisses either.

It's more of a 'what am I going to do with you, you can be so frustratingly childish sometimes' look.

Well, dammit. Don't tell me I've failed!

"You know," he says, when I do my best to conceal how disappointed and annoyed I am at him, "you didn't have to ask Kafei Dotour to help you dance beautifully. I signed a contract to help you out, and I'm not one to back out on my word."

Oh, way to go, Link. You signed a bloody contract. Now you have to help me come hell or high water or the government lawyers will be on your back.

That is so romantic. Not.

"Thanks, Link, but at least Kafei _wanted_ to help me."

Did that sound bitter or was it just me? Right. It was me and I sounded bitter.

I break away from him and calmly go to pick up my cardigan.

"Maybe if I didn't feel like a charge all the time," I say, "and, by the way, I hate the word 'charge', it makes me feel like I'm a stack of paperwork, I'd be just a little more eager to let you help me. Maybe if I didn't feel like I'm a burden or troublesome, it'd be nice. As is, I already feel like I was polished just a little too hard, like I'm a duckling trying to fit in with the swans. I don't need your comments and reminders that I wouldn't be anything without you. I know it, all right? You don't need to shove it in my face all the time."

I decide against putting my cardigan back on. Instead I just head for the door. Maybe if I walk fast enough, I'll reach the others in the parlour without hearing too much of Link's repartee.

Damn. He's blocking the door.

His eyes are sharper than ever. I can't recognize the guy who was smiling at me just yesterday about shopping sprees. His face betrays nothing but intensity and raw honesty.

"You are _not_ a burden," he says, in a near-growl.

I should be angry at his rough tone. I really should.

But dammit, he doesn't have to be so sexy about it.

Maybe that's why I can't help doing what I do next.

That is, I kiss him full on the lips. Right then and there, while he's blocking the door and since I can't reach high enough with my mouth I tugged him down roughly by the tie, to his complete surprise.

He tastes like coffee and mint. His mouth is so warm, like all his heat comes straight from those lips. I knew they were the stuff of dreams.

What am I saying? What's wrong with me? What the heck am I doing?

Holy gods. What. The. _Heck_. Am. I. _Doing_??

I break away from him breathlessly. My stomach is tied into a million knots and I almost feel sick. Oh. My. Gods.

I so blew it. Oh gods I am so, so screwed. For real, this time. It's real bad. Oh gods.

It's hard not to hyperventilate when my only love interest is staring back at me dumbfounded, probably still too surprised to figure out what just happened.

Except I know what just happened.

That's why I shove him out of the way and run out of the room, doing my best not to cry.

I am in big, big trouble.

* * *

**So this chapter is the afternoon of day 26. The morning of day 26 was all of chapter 21.**

**As a side-note, I have no clue why I consistently say that Link tastes like mint and coffee. I really don't. It appeared in a couple other of my oneshots, and I basically just write it without considering my previous works. It just keeps popping up. ****I guess it's because mint is green and coffee is just sexy. Kind of like those tests where, if you put coffee as your first priority, it means you value your sex life more than anything else.**

**But I also think that a taste of coffee for a man is rather attractive. As attractive as it'd be unattractive on a woman, I suppose.**

**Whatever. You can try and analyse it, but I just don't know.**

**Anyway. See you in two or three weeks!**

**Love,  
****CM**


	23. Interviewee

**I don't know if any of you noticed that I thouroughly enjoy making my characters suffer much anguish on their quest for true love.**

**... Hohoho!**

**Also, I'm posting this chapter now because I don't know when I'll have another spare moment in the following week. I have many end-of-the-year things to do, such as invoke the Snow God through dubious and probably dangerous rituals. Because it's rather disturbing that Montreal hasn't had lasting snow yet. Usually we have at least a meter of the damn thing by now.**

**Actually, I've given up on dreaming of white Christmases, a fact that most Christmas songs enjoy making fun of, since they've been mocking me with Frosty and 'It's Cold Outside'. Thank you, day job, for your judicious choice of background music. At least it's over.**

**Anyway. Merry whichever-holiday-you-celebrate (ah, political-correctness, I love you so)!**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Interviewee"**

So even though Darunia didn't spill the beans about my liking Link, I managed well enough on my own. In fact, I've been knocking my head against the metaphorical wall ever since that damned kiss.

It doesn't help that it keeps replaying in my mind all the time, telling me to go get more.

Stupid hormones.

_Why_ didn't I control myself? Now I messed up so bad that Link's been clearly avoiding me all day. And I actually need his support for once: my interview with Marjorie Majora is at primetime tonight and my stress level has risen to dramatic heights.

But he's been busy all day, probably piling work on purpose so he doesn't have to speak to me, and rather than embarrass myself any further, I'm lying on my bed, sulking and trying to control my anguish.

Someone knocks at my door. I swear if it's Link asking to talk, I'm feigning hysteria and getting sent to Jabu's asylum where I belong. It's better than facing him.

Instead of Link, though, I see Tetra.

Wow. It's been a while. She's been so busy with coronation preparations and everything.

She sends me a flat and eloquent look. "I have no idea why you are in such a foul mood, but Link wanted me to keep an eye on your stress level. Why he asked _me_, the biggest nerve ball around here, to do it, I'll never know."

"Because he doesn't want to do it himself," I mumble morosely.

"Right," Tetra says, clearly not paying much attention to my mood. She holds out a sheet of paper to me. "Here's a list of national concerns he'd like you to acquaint yourself with in preparation for the interview."

"Already covered," I answer, because it's true. I may be nervous, but I'm not the kind to stupidly wait around for commands.

"Great," Tetra retorts smartly. "That gives you more time to make whichever amends need to be made with your publicist."

I feel something twist in my gut. Fighting the urge to hurl, I say, "Thanks, but no thanks."

I did something stupid, yes, but I'm not going to take it back. Not for all the thrones in the world. I may not get Link, but no way am I going to lose that kiss. I'll keep it to myself and continue to wonder at what might have been.

"Anyway," Tetra says, "I don't see why you're so upset. Link doesn't seem any different than usual."

That's because, unlike me, his heart hasn't been shred to bits, since he doesn't care for me. Really, I have no idea why Tetra has to twist the knife in the wound.

"Tetra," I say, "I know I'm going to sound like a masochist, but could you please send Kotake up?"

"Kotake?" Tetra looks at me sharply, like I've grown a second head. "Why would you want to talk to _her_?"

I sigh, and, piteously enough, I say, "I need some sense knocked into me."

Tetra apparently can't hold in her amusement. "And Kotake Rova has become the dispenser of common sense since when…?"

"I don't know. I figure even if she spouts random nonsense, it'll make me feel better knowing there are people who are more delusional than me."

Tetra rolls her eyes. "You've got that right. Well, I can call her, but don't forget you asked for it." She examines me. "Besides, you seem in dire need of a reality check."

"Thanks," I reply as dryly as possible.

She leaves the room and her footsteps fade from hearing range. I check my watch. Five hours to go before my interview on national television. Joy. I chose to wear the clothes from Wattemples for the occasion. Just because I might become a queen doesn't mean I have to dress twice my age.

Fifteen minutes of pointless reflections later, Kotake enters my room without knocking.

"Tetra said you needed a wake-up call," she grunts. "I thought you'd gotten over yourself."

"So did I," I say, sitting up, oddly relieved to see her, "but that was before I―"

"Slept with your publicist?"

"What?" I blink at her in shock. "No!"

"What do you mean, _no_?" Kotake looks frustrated. "What are you waiting for?"

I stand indignantly. I try not to tower over her _too_ much. "What do _you_ mean, 'What am I waiting for'? I can't sleep with my publicist!"

"Why not?"

I stare at Kotake incredulously. Has she lost a few bolts since I last saw her? I mean, 'why not'? _Why not_?? What kind of question is that? What kind of stupid, idiotic, foolish… brilliant question is that?

Why not, after all?

Whoa. No. No, no, no. She is taking me over to the dark side. I can't sleep with Link ―I mean, my publicist― because he's a business acquaintance. He's in charge of my image. If things don't work out, I'm going to have to find a new publicist or something because I can't manage it on my own.

Sleeping with Link is too risky. Unfortunately.

"Kotake," I say, as patiently as possible, "I can't sleep with him because we are business relations."

There. That should settle it.

"Oh, please," she says, rolling her bulgy ice blue eyes, "Not for much longer."

"What?" What does she mean?

Did Link say he wanted to leave? Did I mess up even more than I originally thought?

"Didn't you know?" Kotake seems thrilled that she can actually teach me something. "Once someone gets crowned, his job is done."

What?

I feel the idea sink in. Link… leave? The idea is as foreign to me as shopping in Marcastle and becoming a royal once was.

Oh gods! Link can't leave!

I sink down on my mattress again, unable to accept that if anyone gets crowned, no matter if it's Ganondorf of I, I will never see Link again. He'll move on to publicize a sexy pop star who will actually impress him and know about milkwine and they'll get married and have five beautiful children―

"Judging from your expression," Kotake says flatly, even though I'm about to hyperventilate and start crying, "you don't think of him as strictly business."

"I kissed him yesterday," I breathe.

"It's about time. Did you like it?"

I shamefully admit, "Yes."

"And did the blind moblin like it?"

"How would I know?" I stand, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. "How would I know?? I acted on the moment. It didn't make sense. We haven't spoken since! He probably hates me! And now you tell me he's gonna leave?"

My voice now borders on the hysterical. Link can't leave! I love him!

"All the more reason to get it on with him," Kotake says, to my previous words.

I stare at Kotake, trying to not cry. "What's the point?"

Kotake rolls her eyes. A lot of people seem to be doing that to me lately. She says, exasperatedly, "All right. Let's have it your way. Just focus on the task at hand. Keep your relations businesslike. Lose him for good." She holds up her feather duster. "Work yourself away and bring other people some temporary happiness. Clean up their lives. Forget yourself. Taint your honesty with power. And when you get to my age, look back on this and wonder."

Something in her icy eyes is wavering. I feel my heart pull.

"Wonder if it was worth it." Her tone is still as dry, hoarse and nasty as always. "Wonder if being alone was the better choice."

She grumbles something along the lines of 'foolish girl' and heads towards my door. Right before she disappears into the hallway, she says, "I was lucky to have a sister. Who will _you_ grow old with?"

She slams my door behind her.

Gods. To think she was supposed to cheer me up.

I fall back on my bed and stare at my ceiling. I'd never noticed how high it was before.

Should I be productive, or mope around for the next four hours and… forty-five minutes?

I sit up again, because, as tempting as moping is, Kotake's right. I can't just let things be. Link and I will have to talk again, at some point or other. I mean, our job isn't over. Mine hasn't even started yet. I still need his help. And I'm going to make every minute of his remaining time count.

And if he wants to say he doesn't feel the same about me, as he probably will, I will take it with regal understanding and I will keep a purely businesslike attitude around him. I will blame stress for the kiss, and he's going to have to accept that sometimes, a girl has to let loose some of the steam.

And we will never talk of that kiss again, and I will return to shamelessly pining after him, knowing only too well how doomed our non-relationship is.

… Gods. Everything sucks.

There's a knock at my door.

"Zelda?"

Oh gods. It's him!

Is there, like, some secret passageway around here? Maybe I should lock myself in my bathroom and get the shower running?

Even as I stand to dart towards my bathroom, the door opens and Link steps in, not looking as though I non-verbally admitted my major crush on him just yesterday.

I freeze mid-leap, and, a bit more annoyed than I feel, I say, "Gods, heard of knocking much?"

He looks at me, and his dark blonde eyebrow rises. "I did knock." Oh. Right. "What? Were you trying to evade me?"

I don't know. What do you think? "No. I just wanted to check…" Check what? Check what, Zelda?? "… If I still had enough… toilet paper."

Oh, my gods. Lame alert.

"Huh." Link doesn't seem interested in pursuing this stupid conversation. Instead, he changes the subject and says, "I came by to check if everything was alright. Tetra told me you were already done studying ―congratulations, by the way― and I saw Kotake leaving your room a minute ago… She didn't make any more lewd comments, did she? I tried to tell her to stop that, but she wouldn't hear any of it." He pauses. "Also, Kafei invited you to supper this evening ―to discuss both your futures, he said. But I told him you'd be too busy giving an interview on national television."

I can't help but smile a little at this. "Too bad. I'm sure supper with Kafei would have made for an interesting conversation."

Link snorts a bit, as though he finds the idea risible. "Right. Instead, I suggested he interest himself in your friend Anju, because she told me she wouldn't mind replacing you for this time."

I hold down my grin and say, as regally as possible, "That's generous of her. I'll have to thank her."

Link doesn't seem overly concerned with that. He looks a bit fidgety, actually. How strange.

"Our most pressing concern is how you're going to act in tonight's interview," he says.

And, like that, I'm swept off on a whirlwind of pre-interview preparations, and then I'm shoved into a car, dressed like I'm a talk-show host, and half an hour later I'm sitting across from Marjorie Majora, journalist extraordinaire, as a technician cries out, "In five, four, three…"

And a red light blinks. We're on.

Marjorie Majora, at least, is a very decent woman. She likes to wear surprising colours, and her heavily painted eyes are piercing, and her nails are really long, but thankfully she doesn't sharpen her teeth to bite people.

Not that I expected her to.

It's hard to concentrate on an interview when butterflies are dancing the Goron dance in your stomach and the love of your life is standing off to the side, in the darkness behind the projectors, and you can't see him or ask him why he hasn't given you a single bleeding clue about how he feels for you.

Maybe he already assumed that it was all stress?

Gah. That sucks more than I thought it would.

"And how do you think," Majora asks me, her curt voice dragging me back to the moment ―we've been speaking together on air for who-knows-how-long now, "your political opponent, RP leader Ganondorf Dragmire, is taking your slow but steady rise in the public opinion?"

I can't help a tiny but lenient smile. "Well, I suppose like any politician he'd find this alarming. I won't pretend to know what's going on in his mind, however."

"Neither will we," Majora says, and I try not to raise my brows at her subtle political comment. She immediately continues with, "Seventeen days ago you pronounced a speech during a live conference in front of Marcastle palace. You claimed not to have much press experience, to be an uncomfortable orator, and then added that you wanted to become what the people wanted without assuming their desires."

I nod, even though the memory of that day still makes me slightly nauseous.

"You partially concluded your conference with the claim that a queen was another kind of waitress, and that you intended to become the best queen Hyrule ever had. What triggered the change from waitress to queen, I wonder?"

I have trouble thinking of an answer, but then I say, "I was firmly encouraged by talented professionals who have taught me the complex workings of our government. I took lessons. I practiced my national catering," I say, and at this both Majora and I chuckle. "All in all, I took the time that was needed and acquired the necessary knowledge to rule this country with courage and wisdom."

"So," Marjorie Majora incites, "you still believe you have what it takes?"

I smile. "Certainly."

Marjorie smiles back. "We'll continue the interview after the commercial break, if you don't mind."

I smile again. "Of course."

It takes five seconds before a man cries, "Three minutes thirty! Make-up!"

A woman rushes forward to fix Marjorie's make-up. Eventually, we're both left under the spotlight again. Majora leans forward.

"You're doing a wonderful job. After the break I'll be introducing these."

She takes out a manila envelope from under the desk and opens it. She spreads on the desk a series of photographs. Of me. With the Godly Trio.

It's the first time I see them. I can't help a surprised gasp.

I'm gorgeous. Look at that butt of mine.

"I'm impressed by how much the pictures and the real you are alike. Sometimes they fix the pictures up. But you really are this pretty."

I can't help but be flattered.

"Between you and me," Majora says conspiratorially, "and the ten technicians, have you got anyone in mind as a boyfriend?"

Whoa. Direct, isn't she?

"Um," I say, "no. Not really."

"You can have me!" A technician jokes. I turn my head to laugh along with everyone else, when I notice Link standing to the side. He's not laughing at all, looking grim and like he isn't all there. His eyes are staring into space under furrowed brows.

Really, what's gotten into him?

"Starting again in fifteen seconds," another man calls, and everyone hurries back to his or her position.

Marjorie says, "I'll be talking about your future publicity stunts."

I nod, remembering my mental cue cards for the subject. I've gotten pretty good at this whole memory thing. Link's tips totally helped me.

The red light blinks on again. Marjorie Majora begins talking in a professionally trained tone.

"We're live in the studio right now with the candidate for the throne, Zelda Harkinian, whom a lot of people have affectionately dubbed 'Princess Zelda'. Before the break we discussed her childhood, her qualifications, her stance regarding national debate subjects, her opponent's scandals, and her current relation to that same opponent, Ganondorf Dragmire. Tell me, Miss Harkinian," she leans forward just a little, to mark interest, "now that you're less than four days away from the moment of truth, how are you handling stress?"

I smile just a bit. "Oh, I won't lie. I'm nervous. But I also trust the ministers to do what is best for Hyrule and to choose the ruler that will lead this nation into an era of peace and prosperity. I've met them all personally and they are very kind and interesting people. I was actually reassured to see that the cabinet was made of such bright and knowledgeable ministers."

Majora nods slowly, and, in the same tone, asks, "Considering how little time is left, what are your intentions to encourage popular vote in your favour?"

"Well," I say, "I can't say I have much time left, so all I can say is I'll be at the Indigo-Go's concert tomorrow to relax a little and mingle with everyone. I'm looking forward to it."

"We've also received the final result of one of your photo shoots with the Godly Trio," Marjorie Majora says, picking up the photographs. "You can see a few on the screen right now. How was posing with those goddesses like, anyway?"

I grin. "Oh, they were very nice. We discussed politics. They're very smart, not at all like the stereotypical fashion model. They made me laugh quite a lot, I must admit."

"They sent us a note claiming that they found you very pleasant as well and have even declared that they would love another shoot with you, regardless of your political outcome."

This surprises me. I say, in all honesty, "I didn't know that. It's very kind and flattering of them."

"And," the journalist says, "I'll just take a short moment to say that you look positively gorgeous on those pictures."

I laugh lightly. "Thank you."

"Well," she says, "our interview time is drawing to a close. In conclusion, is there anything you'd like to say?"

I nod as graciously as possible. "Certainly." I take a breath and say, to Majora and the camera, "I have every intention of making the people as happy as I possibly can. This country means a lot to me and I wouldn't want harm to it in any possible way. My political opponent has suffered quite a few incriminating accusations in his social circle, and I have since lost much of the trust I had in his complete honesty." I don't mention that I never trusted him in the first place.

"Yes," I continue, "I was a waitress in Lakeside and yes, there were times where I had to wear the same clothes over and over again because the Laundromat just wouldn't open. I used to save up money to buy a pair of shoes I liked and I had to balance out two jobs to repay my tuition.

"They weren't fun things to worry about, but I think they made me stronger. I understand what sort of trouble every day people have to deal with, because I was not born into money. Unlike Ganondorf Dragmire," I dare add.

"Even now," I say, "I struggle sometimes to get everything done. I have concerns and they're not all related to the national budget. Sometimes I just don't know what to wear to a conference or an interview."

Majora laughs at this, and I can't help a sheepish smile either.

I say, "Every day life isn't easy, and most people will agree to this. But I think it's even worse when your political leader won't think in the favour of the people. I think I understand that better than Mr. Dragmire, because I was and still feel like I am part of the masses. That's why I swear to worry about my people before anything else, because, like it or not, I am…" I take a breath and smile at the camera, "part of them."

There's a short silence in the studio, then Marjorie Majora says, "Thank you so much for your honesty, Mrs. Harkinian. Or shall I call you Princess Zelda?"

I laugh. "You can call me Zelda, if you want. Either way, it's my name. And the illegitimate title makes me a little uncomfortable."

"I think," Majora says benevolently, "that you've proven yourself to deserve that title more than anyone else."

That's so kind of her!

"Thank you," I say, trying not to look too grateful.

"Well," she says, "this concludes tonight's interview. Stay tuned. Right after the break is a special documentary. Explore the ancient temples of Hyrule with Professor Shikashi, an expert archaeologist from Termina. Thank you once again for joining us tonight, and have a good evening."

It takes thirty seconds for the credits to finish running, and finally, the red light blinks off.

I feel a huge weight lifting off my shoulders and I heave a sigh of relief. Marjorie Majora glances at me amusedly.

"You're not one for public speeches, are you?"

I shake my head, feeling a bit foolish.

"You handled it like a professional," she assures me, and once again I'm grateful for her kindness. "I can't promise you this will have a big impact, but I certainly hope so for you." She smirks a little. "It can only help you, at least. Ganondorf Dragmire's campaign has been well done but not spectacularly so. You, on the other hand, feel like a breath of fresh air. I wouldn't be surprised if you made the job hard for Dragmire."

We both stand down from the stools where we had been sitting. I say, "I think he hates me for precisely that reason."

Marjorie Majora's brow goes up. "I suppose." Her eyes slide towards Link, and she smiles a bit in appreciation. I don't blame her but I do feel a little bit territorial.

Not, I'm beginning to realise, that I have any right to be.

"And you're the publicist," Majora says, extending her claw-like fingers politely. "We didn't have much time to get better acquainted, I'm afraid."

Link, at least, lost a bit of his distant or foul mood, and he smiles charmingly. "We're both very busy."

"Are you too busy to join me for dinner? There is a _very_ big project coming up for our station and they wanted me to find someone competent to advertise the idea."

Gods. I feel like rolling my eyes. So this is how Link gets his jobs: he just stands there and looks gorgeous, and people fawn over him, begging for his help. It's a wonder he isn't rich yet.

I expect Link to say yes, because his current job, also known as _me_, will be done in four or five days, and he's probably looking for some other way to buy his bread and butter.

Why can't _I_ be his bread and butter??

Instead of sticking around to see Link falling for the obvious flirting of Majora, I begin to walk towards the studio doors. Maybe if I'm lucky I won't lose my way in the building and I'll actually find the exit. Also, maybe I won't have to find a trashcan and hurl inside it.

Not five seconds later, though, Link hurries after me, calling my name. I turn ―because, um, who wouldn't? ― and I see him jogging to catch up with my long strides.

Well, he sure sealed the deal with Marjorie Majora pretty fast.

"In a hurry to get home?" He asks. I snort a bit.

"I guess. So you got yourself a new project?" I do my best to keep the bitterness out of my voice and stay as neutral as possible.

He looks at me sternly and says, "I never do exterior business while I'm still working for someone else. It's against my principles."

"But she offered you a big job," I say.

Link snorts, and shrugs. And completely shocks me by saying "Frankly, I don't think I want to stay in the publicity world after your coronation."

Oh…

Whoa. Wait. Wait just a minute.

… _WHAT_?

* * *

**As a little note, Professor Shikashi is apparently the name of the astral observer in _Majora's Mask_. Who knew?**

**I won't comment on anything in this chapter for two reasons: 1. I enjoy making you suffer and 2. PRESENTS!**

**Lotsa love,  
****CM**


	24. Star

**I think the most frustrating part about this chapter is that most of you might not even be alerted that it was posted. Seriously. It's time, I think, that this site got moving and got its email system back on track, because it's been down for, what? two weeks now?**

**Anyway. Here's the 24th chapter. Still three more to go before the end! Oh my gods! No way!**

**Yes way. Enjoy. I don't think I'll be posting another chapter until the site gets its email working, though, because it's my own stupid way of boycotting it. Besides, I need to finish chapters 26 and 27.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Star" **

Riots.

I am not even kidding. People are rioting all over the country, in every city and town of Hyrule. Students and youth groups did school walkouts this morning, and a lot of people called in to say they wouldn't be going to work.

They're all in the streets with posters, singing the national anthem, and thousand upon thousands of people are massing on the square, both to see the Indigo-Go's play and to clearly state their opinion.

What's their opinion? Let's just sum it up with ―as Aryll squealed happily this morning to wake me up― 'they're rioting to get Princess Zelda Harkinian crowned!'

Seriously. The Godly Trio wasn't kidding when they said they had power. Ever since the country saw the pictures of the photo shoot, women have been loudly requesting more power for women rulers, while men are just protesting to see more of, well, my legs.

Not, I consider when I look up at a giant poster, plastered on a wall just this morning, of me sitting with a beguiling look on my face ―I'd forgotten that one, I really don't look half-bad on it… actually, I look downright sexy―, that I blame them. I can now freely admit that I'm easy on the eyes.

Now, if Link bothered to act on it, it'd be nice.

But Link is sitting with me in the backseat of our nondescript car, looking out the other window, stubbornly avoiding my gaze. Maybe he's not doing it on purpose, but I definitely get this 'I'm-trapped-in-a-metal-box-with-the-one-person-I-don't-want-to-be-trapped-in-a-metal-box-with' feeling emanating from him.

Needless to say, it sucks big time. Sure, I kissed him and he hasn't given me any reason to believe that he cares for me that way, but come on. It was _just_ a kiss, dammit! He should be glad I didn't jump his bones, like I wanted to.

And then I recall what he said about wanting to leave the publicity world after the coronation ―he said the crown would be mine without trouble, which I'm starting to believe, in light of the riots and all.

I wonder why he wants to leave… and where he wants to go.

Gods. He still won't look my way. I give up.

For now.

The radio in the car is the only thing that breaks our heavy silence. Our driver tunes it up for us to hear, because the announcer just came on and he's talking about me.

"… The unexpected and unaffiliated protests in favour of throne candidate Zelda Harkinian continue into this early afternoon. Though Harkinian's cabinet claims no responsibility for the alarmingly numerous walk-outs and sick calls that happened all over the country, public support has not wavered. In Kakariko, we were told, a public bus on which Ganondorf Dragmire publicity had been plastered was turned over by excited students…"

The speech goes on, and it's music to my ears.

I notice that Link has glanced back into the car and seems pretty satisfied with himself. Now that I think of it, he _probably_ didn't organize the riots, though it wouldn't be surprising if he had suggested the idea to a few key people.

One thing to be glad for, at least, is that his genius works for me, not against me, because frankly, I'd hate to be Ganondorf Dragmire right now.

Actually, just thinking about my 'future' prime minister's reaction to the news this morning brings a grin to my face. Rauru Luz had burst into his own study, where I'd been sitting patiently, looking like he hadn't had that much fun in decades.

"I have no idea how this happened," he'd exclaimed, exaggerating because he did, in fact, know exactly what provoked this nationwide reaction ―my interview last night―, "but if the cabinet doesn't approve of you with a safe majority, I'm buying myself a postiche and dyeing it blue!"

"Oh," I'd answered with a giggle, "blue would look lovely on you."

Link clears his throat, and the sound drags me out of my thoughts.

"We're almost there," he says, very straightforward. A part of me freaks out completely because he sounds exactly like he did when we first met: polite, distant, and terrifyingly impersonal. The other part is traitorously wondering if he likes to be on top or…

Still, the scared part wins out in the end. I have to say, if he's about to brush me off as just another job, he's in for a disappointment. The car slows down, and before Link can get his door open and before we enter the restricted area behind the stage, I take his arm and say, doing my best to keep my face expressionless, "After this, we'll have to talk."

Because, honestly, there's no point in holding it back forever. Someday, I'll have to get my heart officially broken. Might as well be while he's still around rather than when I get an invitation to his wedding with a sexy celebrity.

I can't read what he feels on his face, because I'm an awful judge, and probably because he's being blank on purpose, but then I say, "In the meantime, you will treat me as you used to. We are grown adults and our behaviour is childish and leads to nothing but unnecessary tension."

He stares at me blankly for a while, then his lips quirk upwards, and he looks shared between sadness and pride, "Spoken like a true queen."

I can't help a blush.

Thankfully, he obeys me, because he suddenly works up a broad smile and invites me to follow him. "Let's introduce you to the Indigo-Go's."

We pass the security guards ―whether they're there to protect me or the Terminian band is a mystery, though it's likely both of us are at risk anyway― and around security barriers, so that we're finally inside a tent backstage. The black backstage curtains and the brightly lit stage are somewhere out of sight, but I can guess where it is because of the ruckus the crowd is making.

Shockingly, they're shouting for more than just the Indigo-Go's.

"Are they screaming, 'Go-Go's Zelda'?" I ask.

Link snickers. "I might have hired a few crowd motivators to get them into the pattern."

"What?" I try to keep my eyes from bulging out of my skull, then I grab his shirt sleeve ―ooh, soft Calatian cotton― and hiss, "What do you mean you hired crowd motivators? You mean, like…"

"I guess the closest parallel I can make is that I hired crowd cheerleaders," he says, far more amused by my panic than he rightfully should. "So now they're encouraging the crowd to scream for both the Indigo-Go's and you."

My jaw is not dragging on the floor. It most certainly is not. The fact that I can muster no discernable words is just a speech impediment I've had since childhood.

Right.

He smiles. I don't know how he manages that. The knee-weakening smile, I mean. Is there some sort of club where all the hot guys gather to learn how to smile like that? Or do they all just have the innate built-in muscles to manage that gorgeous dimple?

I can't ponder the question more because he says, "Crowds actually have the mental age of a three year-old. Someone who knows how to handle their emotions can make them believe whatever they please, and the crowd won't know any better.

"Wave effect," he adds. "A good political speech makes use of that. Once a crowd is used to scream 'yes', even if you suggest something to which they'd normally scream 'no', habit and the wave effect will make them scream 'yes' anyway." He sighs. "Sad, but practical. Tyrants have been elected thanks to that effect alone."

"But I'm not a tyrant," I say, though what he just told me is both creepy and fascinating.

"I know. All the better," he smirks.

"Miss Harkinian," I heard a man croak from behind us. Both Link and I turn.

Ah. Great. My first encounter with the Indigo-Go's has to start with Toto Busy, the publicity genius, the man behind the Go's legendary success. He's a stout, short manager, with a frog-like, blubbery chin and big, watery eyes that hardly blink. To be honest, he's unattractive, but I figure if the Indigo-Go's are so popular, he's got to be good at his job.

Right before I step in his direction to introduce myself properly and shake his hand, Link whispers, in my ear, "This concert is your last chance to boost your popularity."

I look back at him and say, "I doubt that'd be a very good idea, Mr. Cheer. We wouldn't want a bigger riot to destroy the stage, would we?"

Somewhere, the crowd erupts in a loud, "Zelda!"

He smirks at me eloquently. "Fine. Then you go on ahead and do nothing at all to improve your chances."

I roll my eyes, but I figure it's best if I don't tell him that I really don't care for my chances right now. My thoughts, unfortunately, are mostly focused on how soft his shirt is and how much I want to see him lose it.

Dammit.

"Mr. Busy," I say instead, turning on my heel and politely holding my hand out, so that Link won't see that I pine after him senselessly, "It's lovely to meet you."

Ironically, the first thing Toto Busy says to me when he grasps my hand in his cold, wet ones ―he's nervous and his forehead is sweating― is, "This concert is a great opportunity to boost our popularity."

I hear Link behind me stifling a sneeze, and I know it's probably because he's trying not to laugh triumphantly. Gods.

"Bless you," Toto Busy says to him, in that absent-minded way people pretend to care for other things than their own business. He overhears the crowd's cries for both the band and my presence, then says, following up with his earlier thought, "Though I'm starting to think neither of us actually needs the extra popularity."

"Oh?" I pretend not to have noticed this. "I was afraid I was getting overconfident." Take that, Link.

"Indeed not," Toto Busy comments. "But this tour is an important part of―"

"Toto," I suddenly hear a young female voice call, "you're going to talk her ears off!"

Perhaps my ten year-old fan-girlishness hasn't died yet, because I could have sworn that voice belonged to Lulu Singer, a teen pop idol whose popularity would have died if she hadn't joined a group of talented ―and hot― musicians during her tour to Labrynna.

"What?" Another voice asks with incredulity. "She's here already?"

The voice is deep and bit wobbly. It's probably Tijo Dram's, because this is no singing voice and, as far as I know, Tijo never sings during their gigs. He's the drummer only.

"Tijo, did you drink from my bottle?" Ah, yes. This is the one voice no woman can forget. Mikau Blue's, I mean. So smooth, so relaxed, but so powerful. It doesn't hurt that he looks gorgeous on the posters either, with only his guitar to protect his modesty ―it's not that hard to believe that a guy that good-looking would want to pose in his birthday suit. Most women enjoyed that 'naked gig' concept, even though it only lasted a very short time.

"Japas, if you mess with those fingerboards again, I swear I will break every one of your fingers so that you'll have to play the bass with your teeth." The only one who could be so direct has to be Evan Keys, the band's pianist. He has the reputation of being prideful and commanding, but I guess it's just another side to genius composers.

"_Mikau_, Evan is threatening me again. Give him a piece of my mind, will you?" And this whining last voice can only be Japas', the bassist of the Indigo-Go's and the biggest troublemaker stardom has ever known.

"Do it yourself, you lazy bastard," Mikau answers from somewhere unseen, "I already defended you twice today."

"_Lulu_," Japas continues in the same whining tone, "Mikau's not being nice to me!"

Toto Busy glances at me with exasperation.

"Japas, Evan and Mikau. Inseparable and insufferable."

"And damn sexy," I hear Japas say. We all turn and, sure enough, the whole band is standing there.

I figure he has a point. Smiling Japas, frowning Evan, and especially Mikau, who looks exhausted, are just as sexy as on the posters of them I used to hang in my room. Tall and lanky, with a permanent slouch, Japas seems shared between laziness and a boastful humour. He wears his hair long and it falls over his eyes. I think it's impossible not to like him.

Evan seems far more uptight and serious, though. He's broad-shouldered, straight-backed and gorgeous. He always seems to be frowning, though his talent as a pianist and composer is unmatched.

Mikau, on his part, is thin, tightly muscled, stylishly tattooed and basically the heartthrob every girl once fawned over. I'll admit, seeing him in person kind of rekindles my long-lost celebrity crush on him.

At Mikau's side is Tijo. The largest of them all, he has a relaxed, likeable face. And he's known for his sense of beat.

And last, but not least, Lulu, the only woman in the group and lead singer, though Mikau and Japas are often her back-up singers, is standing there looking radiant. And a bit annoyed.

"Excuse the boys," she tells me amiably. "They're stupid and immature with everyone."

"Aw, Lulu," Japas whines.

"Will you stop your childish imbecilities?" Evan suddenly asks him. "You're tiresome and you make yourself look like an idiot."

I glance at Mikau to check out his reaction, and he smirks back.

"Hey," he greets me. "We're the Indigo-Go's, jazz-rock celebrity group and the biggest nut jobs in the business." He bows reverently then says, "And you're Zelda Harkinian, unlikely queen and," looking me up and down, he adds with a wink, "total babe in the making."

"Thank you," I say, trying not to look _too_ flattered. The fan-girl inside me is squealing, though. Mikau thinks I'm hot! Mikau thinks I'm hot!

"Oh, and everyone," Toto says, "This is Link Forester, royal publicist, or something along those lines."

"Not quite my title, but it'll do," Link smiles politely.

"Nice to meet you, man, but you'll both have to excuse us. We have to figure out the final tuning for _New Wave Bossa Nova_."

So follows a passionate ―and at times violent― musical terms exchange between the band members, the complexities of which I don't even begin to grasp.

My confusion must show, because Link suddenly leans in to speak close to my ear. "They're talking about adjusting their guitar levels so that they sound more in harmony with Evan's keyboard. And," he adds, listening to the conversation for a brief moment, "they're changing their registry to match Tijo's drums."

For a moment, I'm interested by his explanation, until I realise what his translation implies. "You mean you actually understand what they're talking about?" I whisper to him. "I stopped listening when they started discussing high cats."

"Hi-hats," he corrects me with clear amusement. Whatever. "But yes. I'm familiar with music. I used to take lessons."

"You," I say, trying to hide my admiration for him, "do not belong in the unrewarding world of publicity."

"I know." Which harshly reminds me that he intends to leave the unrewarding world of publicity.

Something akin to panic fills me and almost paralyses me. Oh gods. "Link," I suddenly ask, "you said that you're not staying― can't you tell me wh―"

"We're going onstage!" Toto Busy calls. "Japas, if you're spiking Evan's bottle again, I'm having you go on pants-less."

"I know a couple of my fans who'd love that."

"Princess," Toto says, using my illegitimate title and effectively preventing me from asking Link the question that has been torturing me since yesterday, "we had our lead prepare an introduction for you."

Before I can even open my mouth to ask him what that implies, he's not listening anymore, instead shoving Tijo and Japas onto the stage, under the roar of an ecstatic crowd. I've never heard such a ruckus before. Somehow, that scares me out of my wits.

"Link!" I squeak over the now deafening howl of the crowd as the Indigo-Go's let out riffs and solos, like musical introductions, "what do I do?"

"Take it easy," he loudly says, as soothingly as he can over the howl of the crowd. "You're supposed to have fun."

"What about you?" I ask, trying to control my stress.

"I'll be right here, backstage." When I stare at him imploringly, he says, apologetically, "It wouldn't do for me to appear at your side."

Screw this, Link. You're going down with me; even if it's not in the way I want us to _go down_. "You're certainly not staying backstage without sharing all the fun I'll be having." So maybe that was a little sarcastic. Whatever. I grab his sleeve and pull him towards the entrance to the stage, where Lulu has begun a surely moving speech in my honour, but of which I hear not even a word. "Come on, Link!"

I give him my best queenly stare. He tries to resist, but finally relents.

"This will make the journalists speculate," he says, and though he tries to sound disapproving, he can't hide his amusement. "I guess all that matters is that you get them to talk about you. Also, your glare is threatening."

"Are you trying to justify yourself?" I ask. "Also, I like your shirt."

With those words, Lulu calls our name and we both walk out onto the stage.

I think even without the deadly speakers and the impossibly loud instruments playing all around us, I'd have gone partially deaf. The crowd's reaction to my appearance is overwhelming and nearly more enthusiastic than it was for the Indigo-Go's.

I am rendered speechless. People are screaming as though I were a rock star.

My eyebrows go up. Way up.

And then, Lulu hands me the microphone, and I wonder what the hell I'm going to say because I didn't prepare a speech.

Where's Aryll when you need her?

"Um," I say, and the echo of it over the booming speakers sends the crowd into hysterics ―this is insane― "Hey, everyone."

Okay, that was lame, and it does cool the crowd off a bit. But hey, it gave me time to make something up.

And I hope Link is watching this, because he'll be proud.

"So, everyone, _are you ready to rock_?" I unexpectedly cry into the microphone, and I can't hear myself anymore because the crowd just exploded into a deafening howl of enthusiasm.

"_Are you ready to party_?" I ask, in the same tone, maybe a bit louder to cover their voices. The answer is even more powerful than before, and I feel something like adrenalin and elation course through my blood.

"_Will you root for me_?" I ask, adding a joking smirk to the phrase so that they don't get the impression that I'm seriously publicizing myself. Even though that's exactly why I'm here.

Wave effect. Link's words come back to me in a flash and, as if to prove he was right, the crowd answers with even more force than before: "YEAH!"

Oh, yeah. This rocks.

"_Ladies and gents_," I cry into the microphone, "_the Indigo-Go's_!" And I motion to the band that happens to now be ready to start their first song.

As the crowd erupts into a final and continuous cheer, the Indigo-Go's start with their most famous hit, the _New Wave Bossa Nova_, of which I bought the single when I was in high school. Best song ever.

I hand the microphone back to a grinning Lulu, and excitedly join Link on the side of the stage, where he is giving me an impressed look.

He says something, but I can't hear him. We're way too near to the speakers to hear anything distinct. Not even the music makes sense, but there's something electrifying about the crowd and the energy going around the square that makes it amazing. Besides, I know the song by heart. Even distorted nonsense seems familiar.

Link takes my arm to keep me steady. I can't help but hop excitedly, along with the crowd, and instead of calming down, I grab both his hands and encourage him to hop along with me.

"This," I manage to read his lips more than hear him, "is undignified."

I can't help but laugh and he finally gives up, letting me jump happily all over the stage with Mikau and Japas, who seem only too happy to have me on with them. It's like it's the more the merrier where they're concerned.

And they're merry as hell. Any sign of Mikau's drowsiness has vanished to leave place to some sort of energetic high, and it makes him strum along better than I've ever heard him play before.

As for Japas, he keeps making flirtatious but obviously friendly jokes about me, and I can hear the crowd laughing along. I let him do as he pleases, but I don't let him exaggerate. I'm not a slut or anything, and it could easily seem that way if I let things be.

And gods, the crowd's energy is like a drug, and I begin to understand all those artists' claims. It's not the crowd so much as its moving, howling throng that drives musicians and performers nuts. It's like I could go on dancing forever.

Lulu's voice, over the scream of the music, is powerful and glorious, both angelic and sharp. Evan's constant stream of notes is enough to send everyone present onto a music-induced high. Tijo's drumming, solos and beats keep timing how fast the crowd is jumping, and it's like all that jumping could shatter windows and make a permanent dent into the pavement. Still, they don't stop. It doesn't stop. They're amazing. It's amazing.

I keep screaming along the lyrics until my throat hurts, and I know I'm off-key, but because I can't hear myself over the sound, it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters right now. I could be just another fortunate groupie and it doesn't matter whether I'm princess, queen or waitress. Nothing matters right now. Just the crowd and the music and gods, the blissful obliterating noise!

I could go on forever…!

And yet, all too soon, the concert ends. I know the adrenalin will take hours to go away. I don't care. I'm just too ecstatic and my heart is beating wildly. I haven't felt this good for years.

My cheeks are flushed and my breath is short and I'm dying of hunger and thirst and I'm exhausted. But when I return to Link, who actually loosened up a little during the concert, I'm smiling from ear to ear, and nothing will rid me of my elation.

"Link," I cry, and because the crowd is dispersing to buy t-shirts and popcorn, I can actually speak in a semi-normal volume, "oh gods, Link, wasn't that amazing?" I can't help laughing and smiling and I can see it's contagious, because he grins back.

Until his grin suddenly dies on his lips and turns into a glare. For a moment, I think he's going to spoil my mood by telling me I've done something horribly wrong, but he's looking at something beyond my shoulder, so I turn.

My heart lurches to a stop.

Beyond the crowd, signing autographs and shaking hands amongst the throng, Ganondorf Dragmire glances up at the two of us, even as we stand motionless on the stage. He smirks, but doesn't make any other acknowledgment of our existence in any way.

How he managed not to get pounded by angry protesters eludes me. He's got something up his sleeve. That much I can guess. And it's terrifying.

I make a step to go confront him. I've grown beyond being scared of him. I can do this. I know I can.

Link's firm hand on my arm stops me from making another step forward. I turn to him. He's not even looking at Ganondorf Dragmire. I've never seen anyone look like he does then. It's like he just noticed something on the rooftops, and it fills him with tension. He looks livid, but when he turns his eyes to mine, they're anything but scared. "No confrontations today. Let's go."

"What?" I say, trying to resist the pull of his hand. "But I haven't said goodbye to the band―"

"You'll send them a card. Let's _go_."

The insistent tone of his voice is enough to undo my defences, and so I let him drag me with incredible speed off the stage. He rushes me past the tents and towards the security gate.

"Orange alert," I hear him hiss furiously to the security guard, whose eyes widen to the size of saucers. Before I can ask what is going on, Link has pushed me ―rather forcefully, thank you― into the backseat of the car, and, rather than enter it from the other side, he sits in after me, forcing me to scoot over.

"Link," I suddenly snap when he commands the driver to step on the pedal _now_, "What is wrong with you??"

He looks back at me, and he's as livid as before, except now, it's in anger. His gaze bears into mine and he says, in the most serious and angry voice I ever hear him use:

"Ganondorf Dragmire was about to have you shot."

Orange alert, in high-class security jargon, I later learned from an anguished and irate Tetra means, 'imminent assassination attempt'.

And so, I consider, when two days later ―on Decision Day― it's time for me to put on my dress and hear the final verdict, Ganondorf is my new archenemy. He is so _royally_ _dead_.

* * *

**Thanks to Slim and Guy, whose musical talents and knowledge unknowingly helped me write this chapter, because until Slim told me in great detail how drums function as a set, I was completely confused about anything remotely related to musical creation.**

**Poor guys, getting their conversations with me exploited without their suspecting it. They probably don't know how much I actually retain from what they tell me. Oh well.**

**The 'orange alert' thing is mostly a little tribute to my department store job. Did you know that, where I work, 'Yellow Alert' means 'Lost child', 'Red Alert' means 'Fire alert', and 'Black Alert' means 'Bomb warning'? I mean, why would we have a bomb warning at a random department store in Canada? Who'd want to bomb _that_, anyway?**

**The next chapter, as you might've guessed, unless you're particularly dim, which you are not, is all about the final vote... How will Zelda deal with Link's impending departure? How will she cope with the assassination attempt? Who will be chosen as Hyrule's monarch?**

**Guess you'll have to wait and see.**

**Love,  
CM**


	25. Princess

**I think I should mention a little something I forgot to say at the end of chapter 24. The wave effect that Link was talking about and which Zelda used during the concert is based, as was explained, on the fact that crowds have the mental age of a three year-old. I thought I should mention that I didn't make this up at all. So if you want to be scared, go on right ahead.**

**Anyway. The moment of truth is upon us! Hope you enjoy it.**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Princess"**

Link in a tux: I never get used to it.

Isn't that the way of it, though? A girl can be going through one of the, if not _the_ most important day in her life, and she'll still notice how hot her publicist is. But surely that's because he's dressed in a gorgeous charcoal suit with a white shirt and a black and grey tie. His hair is just a little more fixed up than usual, but it still looks handsomely shaggy.

He's helping his pretty sister to zip her cocktail dress' back all the way up, because when she came into my room to ask that of me, I was busy getting dressed in my own gown in the bathroom. So when he followed her in with a polite knock, he spontaneously helped her out. Just seeing his brotherly care is enough to remind me of why I'm in love with him.

The problem is that he doesn't love me back.

Oh, sure, he didn't tell me anything like that. I mean, he probably didn't even think twice about how he feels for me. Which is where I have a problem.

I don't want to be Link's final _charge_.

Because, oh yeah. He also wants to leave the business of publicity. Whoopee.

I step out even as Link lets his sister's curled locks of hair fall back over her shoulders elegantly. He raises his eyes when he notices that I've been observing them. The siblings have almost identical eyes, but where Aryll's are feminine and cute, Link's are burning and sharp.

And gods, his blue eyes burn me through for a second that feels like an eternity. It's hard to remember how to breathe when he looks at me like that, like he just woke up from a dream and finally sees me.

Before he can say anything, Aryll suddenly lets out a loud, excited shriek.

"Oh my gods, Zelda!" She hurries over to me as quickly as she can with four-inch heels in her feet. "You are gorgeous!" She looks at me from head to toe; her pale blonde curls bouncing against her tanned cheeks from where they've escaped her casual chignon. "Is this―? Oh my gods. You're wearing a Maple designer gown!"

I can't help but laugh at her excitement. "With matching shoes," I add, pulling my gown's hem up just enough for her to admire my elegant slippers. I feel like a real princess.

"You're beautiful!" Aryll cries. She turns to her brother for approval. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Link hasn't said a word yet. I'm glad to notice that he's a bit slower-minded since he saw me dressed like this.

Then, after clearing his throat politely, he says, "Lavender suits you."

Aryll lets out an annoyed groan. "Oh, please. You're talking to the future queen, Link. Can't you be a bit more, I don't know, _descriptive_?"

I stop her, because I have the strong feeling that I know what Link _really_ wants to say about my dress and, for the first time ever, it makes me feel very complimented. At least, it's hard not to understand what his appraising look means.

Well, at least it seems he thinks I look good. Who knows? Maybe he'll start loving me a bit more. Though that is probably just wishful thinking.

"No one said," I therefore interrupt Aryll, "that I'm the future queen. Don't give me false hopes. It's best not to put my expectations too high."

She sighs. "Whatever."

Whatever's right. Even if Aryll hadn't suggested that I might become queen-to-be today, I'd have hoped for it beyond hope. Because I really want to become queen. I really want to make a difference in this world. I really want the people of Hyrule to be happy under my reign. This isn't just about repaying my debts anymore.

Mom, I think absently, look at your daughter today. Did you know something like this would ever happen to me? A month ago, I was trying so hard to be more, and now, I finally am more. Mom, and you too, Dad, keep an eye out for me. I could make a real difference, I just know it…

"Hey."

The male voice next to me is startling. I turn to look straight into Link's blue eyes. Where's Aryll? Oh gods, where's Aryll? Did she _leave_? She can't have left already!

Because the thing is, I don't trust myself around Link anymore. Since the arrest of the gunman who threatened my life and from whom Link protected me ―that's right, he saved my life, for gods' sake―, the press has been hounding me for my thoughts on the matter. And back then, Link had been furious all that evening, and in no mood to discuss our non-relationship, as I'd hoped we would.

So I never did get to speak to him about anything. He made himself unavailable all of yesterday, too, locking himself away in his office to work on stuff, probably his resignation notice.

It's all so unfair. Tomorrow, someone, either Ganondorf Dragmire ―that jackass who tried to kill me, though we have no official proof, because the gunman refuses to talk so we can't accuse Ganondorf of anything, the jerk― or myself, will be crowned. And that will be the last time I see Link.

That's why loving him feels so bittersweet. At this rate, he'll probably never know. I mean, it obviously didn't seem to click when I kissed him four days ago, so he won't get the clue unless I tell him.

And I don't think that'd be a very good idea anymore.

And gods, my political opponent is trying to have me killed and all I can concern myself with is how sad I am that my publicist, who probably never loved me back, is going to leave me forever.

Don't cry, Zelda.

"You look awfully pensive," Link says quietly. I glance at him. I know he noticed how my eyes glazed over. He probably thinks it's because I'm nervous or afraid.

I am afraid, but not of what he thinks.

"Well, it's hard not to be," I breathe. "So many things happened in the past month."

"Yeah. And to think," he says, "if you hadn't been so excited on that stage, if you'd stayed motionless for too long, you'd have been shot down." He looks suitably solemn. "I'm sorry we didn't put more security than what we mustered. I only noticed the hit man when I happened to look up at the rooftops."

"It's not even that," I say, with a nervous laugh. "I mean, yeah, it's scary, but I'm fine now, aren't I?" My smile is a bit watery, I know for sure. Gods, don't cry, Zelda. You'll ruin your make-up, and you don't have time to start again. "It's just… If I don't get chosen today, what will happen to me? How could I return to Lakeside after… all this?"

Link obviously doesn't know any more than I do. He remains silent. This makes me even sadder.

But then, he places a warm hand on my gloved arm and says, "Things will turn out alright. I swore I'd make you into a queen." He looks a bit sad too. "And you've exceeded my expectations." He gently nudges me into following his walk. "Come. No matter what happens now, you're going to remain Princess Zelda for all of us."

His gentle words are amongst the kindest he's ever spoken to me, and yet they don't make me feel much better.

Still, there's nothing left for me to say but, "Thank you, Link." Not, you'll notice, 'Thanks, Link', but 'Thank you'. He really did change me.

With that thought haunting me, I follow him out the door. He agreed to be my assistant tonight, again, because there'll be even more people attending the ball, and its subsequent royal announcement: ministers, my friends, some acquaintances, a lot of diplomats, and journalists abounds, all of whom I have to know the names. Link is probably going to come in handy more than once tonight.

The decoration Tetra and her assistants put up, I consider, is worthy of a grand celebration. And everyone in the room is dressed according to their rank. I spot Kafei, in a three piece suit, making small talk with Anju, who is dressed very elegantly ―I want to know where she got that dress. Beside them, flirting senselessly with ―oh my gods! ― Nabooru Spirit, is Ralph. I remember his happy reaction when, yesterday, finally, I gave him the autographs I collected from the Godly Trio. He's a nice guy, really, if a bit too much of a flirt.

"I should introduce you to Medli Flight and Komali Chief," Link says softly from beside me. "Medli is Komali's steward, and Komali is the symbolic prince of Waker Islands." He glances around the room. "And they came with Quill Feathers, the Waker Islands ambassador to Hyrule."

I nod. I've heard of them, but I still haven't met them, so I follow his lead. We make our way amidst a large group of ministers accompanied by their wives. Their reaction to me seems a bit more favourable than it was nine days ago, so I can only hope that it's a positive sign.

I meet Medli first. She's a soft-spoken, very intelligent girl, with a strange sort of innate kindness. Her eyes reflect that softness, and every one of her moves is gentle and graceful, like a dove's.

Komali, on his part, seems pretty young, for a prince. He seems a little awkward at first, but it soon becomes clear he knows exactly what he wants and what is best, like a duckling that'll turn into a swan. He also seems to welcome me with open arms, even though I'm not officially a royal. Yet.

Quill, finally, reminds me more of a proud eagle than anything else. He stands straight, confident, distant, and yet he hides a tinge of good will that I find very reassuring. He comforts me just by being there, because of his innate familiarity.

After discussing mindless nothings with the three dignitaries, I can finally separate myself from them. I spot Malon and Sheik, dancing. I didn't know Sheik knew how to dance, though it hardly seems surprising. Malon's gorgeous, and Sheik's handsome. They make a better looking couple than their nearby neighbours, Madame Aroma and Mr. Dotour, whose dancing is more amusing than dignified. Madame Aroma's sheer size thwarts her husbands', and he already was so frail to begin with!

I take the time to wave at Romani and Cremia, who absently wave back but are engaged in a deep conversation with Darmani, who seems only too happy to be able to entertain young and pretty girls.

I notice Ruto is sitting with Jabun ―I didn't know he was supposed to be there― and the two are apparently completely smitten with one another. It's cute, in a creepy sort of way. I'm sure Ruto's dad will approve of her choice, though, considering Jabun ―who is so unattractive it's surprising Ruto would go for him― is so smart and successful. … Gods. I shouldn't think about it too much.

Link and I weave in and out of the crowd of elegantly dressed people, only to smack into the last person I ever expected to meet again.

Tingle.

That's right. The one who thinks he's a fairy.

Link, understandably, stays a bit further away than before, in light of his history with Tingle and his wariness at being 'attacked' again.

"Um," I say, trying to be polite, considering I'm surrounded by plenty of high-class people, even though all I'm wondering about is 'what is a nutcase like Tingle doing in here anyway??', "Hello, there, Tingle."

He looks at me with newfound respect. "Oh, you remembered my name!" He bows, and I try not to think of him in terms of a tight-wearing thirty-five year-old. Actually, right now, he's wearing a green tuxedo. It's frankly the ugliest thing I've ever seen, but it seems to make him happy.

"May I ask you what, um, lead you here?" Should I ask Link to call Jabun? Ruto won't like that, but _hello_, nutcase on the loose!

"Oh," Tingle says, very lightly, "I have been hired by very nice people. I am now the official mascot of Fairy TM! Yes! I, a fairy, chosen for such an important task!"

Gag. Is someone playing tricks on me, or something? You have got to be kidding me.

"That's, um, lovely, Tingle. And are you well-paid?"

Tingle's eye gets a little gleam that I find not all reassuring. "Oh, yes. Tingle is very well paid. Five hundred rupees per day."

_Five hundred_ rupees per day? Have they gone nuts?

Well, clearly, if they're hiring Tingle.

"That's lovely," I say again. "Um, you'll have to excuse me."

"Yes," Tingle says happily. "Go on ahead! Kooloo Limpah!"

Before I can even make a final comment, Link has found me again and we are walking away fast, his arm firmly dragging me along. He says, an impossible grin threatening to break his composure, "The world is just a bigger loony bin, after all."

And, at that, I can't help but start laughing.

I notice Ezlo and Kaepora talking amongst the elegant crowd, and though they don't seem to notice me, I prefer to swerve and avoid them. Who knows? I might be trapped into listening to their boring conversations again. And if there's one thing I've learned about talkative old geezers, it's that the best way to not have to listen to them is to not initiate a conversation.

Actually, I spend the most part of the next hour socializing with numerous ministers and trying not to lose my head to nervousness. Link, this time around, proves a practical reminder, because I've forgotten half of those ministers' names at least.

And, between each conversation, I try not to notice how Link's proximity is reassuring and steadying, and how his words comfort me beyond reason. I try not to notice how every time he speaks to me he makes me smile. I know he's doing his best to keep me upbeat and presentable, but it doesn't make him any less nice, because his fingers keep pressing into my back to guide me gently through the crowd. He's making sure I meet everyone of importance before the final verdict, and he's doing this with the same friendly professionalism that made me fall in love with him.

Suddenly, all too soon, the clock strikes seven o'clock. I glance back at Link with anxiety, but he just smiles softly back.

Rauru ―oh, I'd been looking for him, where has he been anyway? ― suddenly stands on a small stage. He politely says, into a microphone, "And now, ministers, it would be my pleasure to invite you into the adjacent room to place your final votes. The results will be counted and presented in an hour from now." He scans the crowd and looks at me with a smile, then at Ganondorf Dragmire with a nod.

I've been stubbornly avoiding Ganondorf Dragmire all evening. Link too, I know, because he's been guiding me carefully, his eye constantly trained on Ganondorf warily. He hasn't forgotten the assassination attempt.

Then again, to hear the journalists gush when I sometimes run into them, the fact that I survived an assassination attempt has attracted nationwide sympathy and support.

But will it be enough, I wonder when I see the ministers trickle out of the room, or have I let too many opportunities slip?

I want to speak to Rauru, to thank him before all this is over, but he merely follows the ministers into the other room and shuts the door behind him. It's strange because he's not supposed to be voting at all, though I suspect it's just to make sure everything gets done in an orderly fashion.

Now that the ministers are gone, the room seems somewhat emptier, and the distance separating me from Ganondorf Dragmire seems shortened. On common accord, Link and I steer away from him and towards the other end of the room, where Impa is standing, speaking to a little girl in a pretty blue dress.

Who is that anyway?

Upon closer inspection, I'm shocked to recognize Navi, the little delusional girl from the asylum.

"I think Jabun's security net is getting a little lax," Link whispers, but he doesn't seem to disapprove of Navi's actual presence. In fact, he's smiling.

We reach Impa and Navi. I greet Impa with a smile, to which she actually responds ―that's right; I'm good― with a little quirk of her lips. Link nods politely, and Impa says, to me, as though Link is just part of the décor, "You're fitting in, aren't you?"

I grin, but I try to keep my composure. I really have felt like a princess all evening, and the fact that Link has been helping me out, somewhat like he's always been my assistant in disguise, kept me together.

"You're nervous," Impa observes. I nod, even though it wasn't a question. She smiles, and I'm sure I notice pride on her face. "I'm sure you'll be rewarded, no matter the outcome." And she glances at Link, who stares right back with a look I can't decipher.

I don't get their exchange, and at this point I figure strange predictions aren't what I need. I turn my attention to Navi, who has been quiet until now. "How have you been, Navi?"

She looks up at me. She doesn't look nearly as tired as she used to, and she's taken some healthy colours. She even greets me with a small, shy smile. "I got better, Princess."

I smirk at her. "Oh, so you figured it out, about the Queen thing, didn't you?"

She smiles and nods, but then her eyes find Link's and she says, "I think I got better thanks to both of you."

I glance back at Link, who smiles. Which is when I remember that three weeks ago I'd promised to help her out if she wrote letters to me. I'd sworn I'd answer her, but Link had told me I wouldn't have time for it, and so he'd promised to take care of it all.

"Right," I say, apologetically. "I would have written those letters, except―"

"It's alright," Navi assures me with a sweet smile. "Link explained everything to me. You're very nice." She glances around at all the dignitaries then looks back down at her dress. "I wanted to come say thank you for everything. The doctors say I have to stay under observation, but I think I'm healed for good, this time." She smiles, and she's the cutest little girl I've ever seen. "You believed me and that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

There's something about that statement that warms my heart.

Navi smiles and adds, "Besides, if there ever had been a hero for me to warn, it'd have been Link." She grins broadly at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "He told me all about the legends of Hyrule in his letters. Apparently, the famed Hero of Legend's name was also Link!"

I hadn't known this, but Impa, the all-knowing history teacher, nods in agreement and amusement. Navi actually looks excited.

"I want to become a historian so I can learn all about those legends," she says. "And Link said it would be a good idea."

That, I mentally comment, is because Link is a perfect god whose kindness rivals with that of a saint.

Rather than walk away and go insane with stress, I make small talk with Navi and Impa, who manage to distract me for the most part of half an hour. That is, until it gets too close to the final verdict, and when all the ministers start to trickle back out, one by one, carefully not looking at either Ganondorf or myself, in order not to induce false hopes, and when I know that the only ones left inside the room are the impartial judges, my anxiety is impossible to control.

Fifteen minutes to go, now, before I know how my future will turn out. Will I be queen of Hyrule, or will I return to Lakeside with only my father's fortune as proof of my heritage? What kind of a step is that, anyway, to spend a whole month ―oh, it seems like so much more― of your life learning how to be something without even knowing if you'll actually get the spot? There's something distinctly unfair about it all.

What would have happened if Ganondorf Dragmire had managed to have me killed? Would he have taken the role of king by default? What sort of psycho gets his political adversaries killed? The question eats away at me and I'm glad I was too nervous to eat, because right now I have the distinct feeling that I could puke.

It doesn't help that Ganondorf Dragmire keeps sending me both glares and contemptuous smirks; like he already knows he won. Frankly, I really hate him. If only there was a way to prove he tried to have me killed! If only, and then we'd be set!

No. What am I talking about? _I_'d be set. Why do I so easily assume that Link will be with me, if I know he won't? I should stop deluding myself already. No matter what happens, I'll never see him again. Tomorrow is his last day. Tomorrow is the coronation.

The fifteen minutes I have left to wait are the longest of my life. They seem to drag themselves by sluggishly, as though my future isn't on the line at all.

When Rauru finally re-emerges from the adjacent room, it's like everyone suddenly takes in a collective breath. Journalists are eagerly filming every second of this historical moment, five cameras are trained on my face, and as such, I try not to look _too_ ill, while Rauru goes back up onto the makeshift stage and takes a deep breath.

Then, he smiles politely, like he's saying, 'Well, glad that part's over, eh, chaps?' which kind of makes me even more nervous.

Into the microphone, he says, very calmly and, I notice, as though he's trying to hide his own anxiety, "I'd like our two candidates to please come up here for the official announcement. In this envelope," he says, showing everyone a plain, white cardboard envelope, "is the result of the peoples' representatives' votes."

I turn to look back at Link, who shoots me a kind, if completely nervous, smile. He gives my arm a shaky, trembling squeeze, as though to give me strength, and then says, "Go on, Princess."

I go. I don't know how I manage to leave him, but I do. Every single step is agonizing. I reach the stage at the same time as Ganondorf, and we both climb the steps and reach Rauru from either side.

Well, I think. This is it.

This is everything I've worked for. This is everything my mother wanted. This is what every woman in the country probably would have wanted. This is my fairytale.

Let's see if it ends like a tragedy.

Rauru makes a short, but even more anguishing speech. "I personally do not know the result of this vote, but on behalf of all the ministers, I wish to congratulate both our candidates on their exceptionally good behaviour and their exemplary campaigns." I'd just like to say, 'Yeah right!' "This is truly a moment no one will forget, and it is probably a moment that will shape the face of Hyrule for generations to come. I am grateful to be here today and to be witness to such a historical turn." He turns to Ganondorf and I. "Please," he says, "Step forward and shake hands."

Oh, bugger, I think, but I smile peacefully, even when Ganondorf's grip on my hand gets a bit tighter than it should be. This is how strong I've gotten, Ganondorf, and you better notice it.

When at last we both step back, Rauru takes a deep breath, and everyone in the audience suddenly seems to remember they have to breathe. There's a sort of nervous laugh that goes through the audience.

"I wish to declare," Rauru says, "that the vote was conducted in the most lawful manner: thereby respecting the right of every individual and thereby executed with fairness, equality and impartiality. The candidate to have gathered the majority of the forty ministers' votes will automatically be titled as ruler-to-be, and will be crowned within the laws of Hyrule by the priests of this land."

Something inside of me hurts, like all my innards have coiled into a tiny little dot in my stomach, where it writhes in pain.

"In light of all this," Rauru finally says, bringing his fingers up to unseal the envelope, and I feel like everyone in the room is tensing up, "I will now reveal who will be Hyrule's monarch as of tomorrow."

The few seconds he takes to unseal the envelope are painfully long, and I get the sick impression that I'm wavering in uncertainty. I feel like I might pass out. Nothing else matters but the words in that envelope, nothing matters but the sound of paper being shredded inch by agonizing inch.

When Rauru takes out the sheet of paper and unfolds it, I see his eyes scanning the text there, and then…

He smiles.

Leaning into the microphone, he proudly announces, "The results are clear: eleven votes in favour of Ganondorf Dragmire, versus twenty-nine votes in favour of Zelda Harkinian. Our future monarch," he says, over the rising chorus of excited screams and gasps, "is _Zelda Harkinian_."

And before I know it, I'm bursting, exploding, like I've never felt so much stress relief at once, and I go to hug Rauru with the excitement of a three year-old and I am almost crying with joy, when suddenly Ganondorf Dragmire pushes Rauru aside and takes place behind the microphone.

This guy needs manners. I need aspirin. And the gods need to stop singing. Everyone suddenly hushes down, though I'm sure I can still hear Malon and Ruto's excited squeals.

"I'd like to congratulate the winner," Ganondorf Dragmire says, and from the tone of his voice, you'd think he just pronounced my death sentence. "And I wish her the best of luck in ruling this country," his face darkens when he says, "in spite of the fact, her incompetence alone should disqualify her. I'm confident I'd do a better job."

There's an undignified hum coming from the assembly, suddenly broken by a voice that I recognize somewhat vaguely.

"Actually, you'd be disqualified immediately, considering you now have a criminal record." Vaati. This is Vaati Winders, the crazy gossip columnist. What's he doing here? What's he talking about? He's standing alongside a lot of policemen.

Complete confusion is spreading across the room, and Vaati Winders, with a sort of smug look I had never seen on him before, says: "Ganondorf Dragmire, you are under arrest for attempting murder on your political adversary."

"What?" The tyrant at my side suddenly cries angrily. "How dare you―"

"No need to argue," Darunia, my loyal security guard, suddenly says, from beside the police officers, "Zelda Harkinian's gunman spilled the beans less than half an hour ago. That's why I let the nice officers in. We can't have a raving nutcase on the loose, can we?"

Which is kind of ironic because, um, Tingle is standing right there, but by gods, he's now the least of my concerns.

And, just like that, before Ganondorf can even think of revolting himself, they've dragged him away, and I'm left standing on the stage, dumbfounded, elated, and suddenly cheered for unanimously.

Oh my gods! Mom, I'm going to be queen!

* * *

**You probably saw it coming. But the story still has to resolve a few other issues, and you can probably guess which ones.**

**So, I've nothing else to add, except that the story is fully completed as of 2:00 AM this morning.**

**I _told_ you I'd finish it! ;3**

**Love,  
CM**

**P.S. Oh, and the last two chapters? Yeah. They're _good_.**


	26. Graduate

**I have this sort of personal (and non-mandatory) rule that when people beg for more, I provide them with more. I mean, sometimes people beg and I don't have more, but I think when I actually can answer their begging, it would be unkind of me not to.**

**So this is the second-to-last chapter of OiH, and it's one of my favourites by far. See you at the bottom for more comments. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Graduate"**

So I've had a good night's sleep ―manner of speech because I was too excited, nervous and anxious to sleep properly. Seriously, try sleeping while knowing that a whole country will rely on your judgement in less than twenty-four hours. It's not easy.

And now that my elation has died down, something else has caught up with me aside from the realisation that I'm virtually the most powerful woman in Hyrule.

Link is leaving.

The sight of his luggage waiting in the hallway just outside his door, blocking the hallway in front of my room, hits me with such brutal force that I feel like someone physically kicked me in the stomach the moment I stepped out of my apartments.

I don't know how long I stay standing in the hallway, dressed in a deceptively normal pair of jeans and tee. Hey, I'm the queen-to-be: anything but royal gowns and crowns is minimalist on me now. But these jeans reassure me: they anchor me to reality.

I don't know how long I stay frozen in my spot, anchored to the ―painfully harsh― reality that Link will leave my life forever, after overturning it completely, after making me into something I thought I'd never be, after teaching me so many worthwhile lessons.

After making me fall in love.

I don't know how many times I have to fight back the rising sobs that make me shake from head to toe, tearlessly. It's like I'm in shock, like I hadn't realised the fact that I'll never see Link again.

As if to twist the knife in the wound, he suddenly emerges from his room, dumps a last bag on the pile, and looks up at me, a few strands of his dark blonde hair falling over his eyes. Those intense, intelligent eyes, those eyes that entranced me a month ago, I'll never see them again.

They widen.

"Zelda?" He sounds genuinely surprised. I remember thinking that on him, even surprised looks good.

Gods, why am I doing this to myself?

Link straightens and brushes those disobedient strands out of his eyes with a slightly annoyed flick of his finger. He forces a smile that feels awkward and insincere. "I guess I should call you 'Your Highness' from now on, huh?"

Softly, I say, "I'm not queen yet."

He smiles, nodding slowly, and averting his eyes. "Right." He forces a laugh that dies almost instantly in the awkward tension between us.

He suddenly perks up. "But, hey. You got the job, didn't you?" He grins. "And Ganondorf the tyrant is on the road to a partial trial, isn't he?" His grin broadens. "And you'll be crowned this afternoon. And your friends will be extending their stay in Marcastle to spend more time with you. Really," he concludes, a bit of his energy dying when I don't smile as genuinely as I could, "everything is turning out perfect for you, isn't it?"

"Right," I say, smiling, even though all I want to say is, '_Why_, Link? Why won't you love me back?? Why won't you stay? Why can't we be together?'

And then, of course, I understand why, of course.

Of course we can't be together. I'm the queen-to-be. He's my future ex-publicist. He probably won't even be allowed on the palace grounds without expressed permission by the security detail after my coronation this afternoon.

Yeah. I'm soon going to be the one person every girl and woman dreams of being. I'll dress in pretty clothes and go to grand celebrations. I'll be the most popular person in Hyrule and one of the elites of the Hylian Alliance. I'll be wanted everywhere. People already love me beyond reason.

And all I care about is that I'll never see Link again, because he's leaving his job as a publicist and his contract with me is drawing to a close.

Gods. "So where are you headed to?" I ask, trying to sound lighter than I feel.

He glances down at his luggage. "Well, you know. The contract's over, so I have to return to my apartment. I can't stay here forever, after all. I'll probably accompany Aryll back to Waker Islands and check on my grandmother tomorrow. And in three days, I officially begin my next job."

I feel a lump forming in my throat. "You must be excited."

He looks up and smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle, and he seems genuinely glad. "Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it."

"What do you intend to do ―as a job, I mean?"

Link looks particularly glad that I asked, and he opens his mouth to answer me, but then we hear, from down the hallway, effectively silencing whatever Link had been about to reveal, "Oh, finally our little Princess is awake!"

I turn to see Rauru Luz, my prime minister ―my _official_ prime minister now―, hurry towards me.

"We have to see to some final details for your coronation this afternoon." He turns to greet Link and notices all of his luggage. "Oh, Link. Leaving already? I hadn't realized you… But time flies, doesn't it?"

Link nods, pressing his lips together. "It really does."

Rauru turns back to me. "This won't be long, your Grace," he says with a wink. "It's just to measure which crown from the treasury would fit your head for the ceremony."

And so, I'm whisked away from Link, and I let it be just because Link promised he'd find me to wish me good luck later, just before the coronation, so that he can move his luggage right afterwards.

This is so unfair.

Tetra, now that her grandfather is prime minister, was promoted to become his official private assistant. It seems to fill her with pride and she's smiling so much more. She takes his relay when Rauru leads me to the locked treasury.

I'd never visited the treasury before. Instantly, I feel like I'm in a safeguarded museum that is deliberately plunged in obscurity. In the semi-darkness, heavy looking, bejewelled necklaces and pendants, along with thick, over-decorated cloaks, are all displayed in glass cases. That's without counting the numerous metal drawers in the wall, all locked safely.

Tetra leads me straight to the back of the room, and presses on a button on a thin remote in her hand. Very soft lights come on, just bright enough to see by.

"We have to preserve the artefacts from light and aging by keeping them in the dark," she says at my perplexed look.

Her eyes seek a table, and she removes a light sheet of plastic from a half-dozen of crowns. At my awed look, she smiles.

"These are a few symbolic crowns for you to try on. We'll just find which one suits you best. Here, for instance. This is the crown of the first princess of Hyrule. Her name was erased by the centuries." She holds up a delicate golden crown with a few well-cut stones that is made to sit elegantly on the wearer's head. Tetra carefully places it on my head ―oh gods! It's so heavy― and grins. "Hey, it's a perfect fit."

I feel my neck get scrunched under the weight of the object. "It's heavy," I breathe.

"It's solid gold," Tetra simply replies with a smirk. "What else did you expect?"

She looks around and finds a portable plastic mirror. "Look."

I look. Gods. I barely recognize myself.

"You're gorgeous, so quit making that dumbfounded face."

"Well, excuse me for not believing that I'm actually wearing a historical artefact in honour of my future role."

Tetra smiles softly in the semi-darkness then takes the crown off my head. "I'll tell Rauru to have this one sent to the priests at the Temple." She averts her eyes and examines the other crowns. Her tone is careful and a bit uncertain when she says, "Zelda, about Link…"

Okay. Who kicked me again? That hurt.

"What about him?" I do my best to keep my tone detached and light.

Tetra seems unsure still. What happened to Miss Confidence? "Did you like working with him? Did he do a good job, I mean?"

Is she bloody kidding? He gave me a new chance at life! In all honesty, I say. "I got used to having him around. I wouldn't be where I am without him."

"Really?" Tetra asks, as though what I just said relieved her somewhat. "So it must be a disappointment for you that he's not your publicist anymore?"

I want to answer her. I really do. I want to tell her that I'm fine. I want to tell her that the very thought of Link's departure makes breathing difficult.

But I can't.

"Zelda?"

In the half-light, I know she noticed that I'm crying.

Instinctively, her arm goes around my shoulder and she breathes, "Zelda?"

"I don't want him to go!" I say, but rather than speak normally, my voice comes out as a wavering cry. "Tetra, I don't want―" I break off, trying to control my hysteria. In a whisper, I breathe, "I can't imagine getting through the day without him anymore."

Tetra, rather knowingly, I do say, and it manages to frustrate me, asks, "You're in love with him?"

I don't need to answer her; instead, I just focus on controlling my tears.

"Oh, Zelda," Tetra softly says, in a tone that is friendlier than anything she's ever used with me, like she knows more than I do. "You have the whole world and you can't see it because all you want is for him to stay at your side."

Tetra, I want to answer, I would renounce my throne if it meant I could be with him.

"But he doesn't love me back." I hate how my voice cracks at that.

"Oh," Tetra groans, like she wants to call me silly and throttle someone, "_I'm so_― did he _say_ that?"

"No." And before Tetra can actually call me stupid, I add, "But if he loved me back, he'd have shown it."

Tetra rolls her eyes. "Right. Because it's really professional for a publicist to be dating the future queen."

I stand. I already know she's right. It doesn't mean I want to hear it. It's bad enough that I'll never see Link after this afternoon. "You think I don't know? Why do you think I never told him?" And, just like that, my tears are gone.

There's a long silence. Tetra apparently doesn't know what to say, because I eventually break the silence with, "You'll have to excuse me."

And I leave the treasury. Tetra doesn't even call me back. I shut the door behind me and whirl around.

Only to bump straight into Link.

Gods. It so figures.

I know he didn't hear our conversation, in light of the soundproof walls. He just looks a little perplexed at my red eyes. I know I didn't cry long enough for them to get puffy ―thank Gods― but it still must show a little.

"Oh," I say. "Hi, Link."

"Are you alright?" He asks, instead of replying with a simple 'Hi'. "You look like you sneezed one too many times."

I stare at him. "Wow, Link, is it just me or has your level of tact fallen to dramatic lows? Or maybe you've taken lessons from Ralph?"

But then I notice his little quirky grin pulling at his lips. He says, "Sorry." He sobers up and gently leads me back upstairs, towards my room. "But really, are you alright?"

Let me see, Link. I'm in love with you, but because your contract as my publicist is coming to an end, I'll never see you again. You have never given me any indication that you love me back. I'm about to be crowned queen of Hyrule, and I have the rising suspicion that I won't be able to handle it without your help. Additionally, you're leaving the world of publicity, meaning I probably won't be able to track you down anymore through the agency. Do you really think that I'm all right?

"I'm fine," I say.

The hallways to our rooms ― well, my room only, now― are deserted, and it's a bright sunny day outside. Already, as we speak, I know citizens are flocking towards the Temple of Time to get good spots for the coronation. In six hours, it'll be chock-full of people, and it'll be time for me to appear and pledge my loyalty to Hyrule as its new ruler.

Before I can make another step forward, Link takes my arm and holds me back.

He's never been this direct with me before.

"Zelda," he says, "I know you're nervous. It's normal to be scared."

I look back at him, and I fight back new tears. Luckily, my eyes hardly glaze over. He's such a wonderful man and it's all I can do not to admit how I feel then and there. But I stop myself. It's bad enough that I kissed him without warning, I can't also blurt out my feelings by accident.

Link doesn't seem to notice that I'm in such turmoil. He says, his face perfectly unreadable, "I have one last lesson to communicate."

Gods. I'm not even done yet? Isn't he going to stop being so damned professional around me? Can't we finally act like friends, at least?

"Come on," he says, guiding me towards my room. When I hesitate, he turns back to me and says, with a mildly annoyed but also friendly smile, "Zelda, this won't be very long, I promise."

Reluctantly, I follow him. I hate being in close quarters with him of late. Last time, I kissed him full on the mouth, after all. It would have been nice if he'd commented on it, actually, but I guess he preferred not to dwell on such an awkward subject.

"Sit," he says, gently. My heart always beats so fast when he's near.

I obey him, mostly because I'm still a bit in shock at the idea that this is our last lesson together. Never again will he tell me to sit and begin pacing as he recalls the lesson's subject. Never again will he examine my curtains, like he's done so many times before. Never again will he let out a breath as he seeks the proper wording to communicate his lesson as clearly as possible.

But this time, he doesn't start talking after he sighs. How odd. I examine his profile, that dark blonde hair, those blue eyes, that straight nose and soft lips ―I know they're soft; I remember them― and it seems as though he's debating with himself.

Finally, he looks back at me and smiles. And then he starts talking.

"Zelda. This afternoon you will become the queen of Hyrule and I will no longer be your publicist. I'll move onto my next job and you'll move onto becoming the best queen Hyrule's ever had."

Don't cry, Zelda.

Link seems to search for his words. He's usually quicker minded than this. He says, hardly even looking at me, "This palace will be your new home. The world will revere you. The people will love you."

But you won't, I sadly think.

"You will be fair of judgement and heart," he says then glances at me. "And also, just plain fair." He winks. I blush. He clears his throat, as if he's uncomfortable with the comment he just made. "You will probably devote yourself to others, day and night, worrying yourself over the welfare of Hyrule and its people."

I don't know what to say. He's most likely right. He seems to know me better than I know myself.

"Zelda."

The way he says my name calls for my attention. I look up at him, and he is gazing right back down at me.

"Link?"

He looks at me with more emotion than I've ever seen him use before. It almost brings me to tears. My eyes prickle, and I'm afraid of blinking, in case my composure fails me.

"There's one thing I want you to remember. This one lesson alone is more important than any other I possibly could have taught you in the month we were together." He crouches in front of me, and says, without once letting his gaze stray from mine. "This kingdom cannot be happy without a happy queen." He takes my fingers in his and squeezes them insistently. "You chose this road, and for that, I wish you the very best of luck and joy. I said it then and I'll say it once more: I can't imagine another person in this position but you."

My heart hurts, like he's trying to squeeze all the blood out of it. This alone brings the tears out into my eyes, trailing wet paths down my cheeks. It's too late not to cry, but I'll at least do my best not to dissolve into helpless, desperate sobs.

"When we first met, you were a nervous, uncertain country girl. Now, I look at you and see nothing but the makings of a true, kind-hearted, clear-minded, intelligent queen." He smiles sadly, a little bit, when more tears fall down my cheeks. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

I can't even nod or shake my head. It would make me choke and begin to sob.

"Don't be."

I see his smile turn genuine and kind and subtly confident.

"You have everything it takes to handle your future, except one last bit of knowledge that I think you might be interested in hearing."

I take a deep breath and wipe my eyes on my shirtsleeve.

He says, "I spent a few hours looking into the matter, just to know where you stand." His smile turns lopsided. "After making sure of this with a few lawyers, historians and judges, I officially announce to you, Princess Zelda, that a queen is free to date and marry whomever she pleases."

Needless to say, I wasn't expecting that one. I stare at him and croak, my brows furrowed together, "I beg your pardon?"

He stands and smiles down at me a little amusedly. "You're free to date who you want." He looks back out at the window and curtains, outside which bright sunshine illuminates the gardens. He pauses, then glances back at me and says, "Historically, if you become a queen through legitimate means and not through marriage, you can choose whomever you want, without restrictions, as a consort, as long as you deem that he is suitable for the role of monarch."

I can't help but gape a little. "And," I say, my voice gradually growing steadier, "you're telling me this because?"

The way he smiles at me is a little bit friendlier than he's been in the past few days, and it sends my heart beating wildly. He says, "This is a matter of ensuring your happiness: happy queen, happy country. Weren't you paying attention?"

I'm gaping for sure, now. "But―" I break off, and I clamp my mouth shut because I just remembered that he never told me that he loved me. He couldn't possibly want to ensure my happiness with him.

But… he never told me that he _didn't_, so maybe…

Maybe…

"Now that that's settled," Link suddenly says, though, now back to his efficient, kind of flippant tone ―which completely destroys all my hopes that he only explained marital laws in order to ask me out, which hurts beyond belief―, "can I ask you a final question? Think of it as a conclusion to our lessons."

I figure he's going to ask me how I think we worked together or something like that. I'm trying not to let the pain sting too much and failing miserably.

"What was this I heard," he says, sounding truly intrigued and suspicious, "about you thinking I'm a sex god?"

My heart lurches to a sudden stop, along with my breath and every single bodily function I ever possessed. The world ceases to turn, the clocks stop ticking, the people stop talking, and there are just the frantic thoughts that run through my head.

Did I… really hear him ask that? Did he actually say that or did I not hear him properly?

And then, amidst the chaotic panic, one single thought pushes its way through.

Darunia, you _traitor_, I am _so_ going to kill you.

"Hey," Link's handsome, laughing face suddenly fills my vision and snaps me back to reality ―the clocks start ticking very slowly again― "Is it so shocking?" He snickers, clearly smug that he's actually right. "My job is to know everything, don't you remember?"

I can't bring myself to look at him without having my mouth hang open stupidly. I'm still debating whether or not I should _strangle_ or _stab_ Darunia.

Apparently understanding that I'm in no state to respond properly, Link says, his smirk melting into a gentle smile, "But don't worry too much." He dries one of my cheeks, which is still humid though I stopped crying. "I've only been in love with you since that day you elbow-punched me in the jaw, so you're not that badly off."

That is enough to make my breath hitch. And at once, all those life-sustaining things ―like the lungs breathing and the heart beating― start again, much faster than normal, yes, but at least vibrantly there.

A few leftover tears fall back down my cheeks.

But I smile.

He seems supremely satisfied that I actually found my smile again, because he leans forward and presses his forehead against mine. "That's more like it. You're prettier when you smile."

I don't know how I manage to feel his heartbeat when I hold his hand, considering that mine is beating erratically in my ears, like it hasn't found its pace again after resurrecting, but I manage to feel it. It's pulsing hard in his veins, steadily, comfortingly so.

I don't think it's possible to burst from joy, but I swear my skin won't be able to contain all of it.

"Zelda? Say something?"

I look into his eyes. He's too close for me to see them very clearly, but I frankly don't care. "I love you…?"

"Oh, I knew that."

I'm about to retort that _of course_ he knew that, considering it's his job, and I'm about to ask him why, if he knew it, he didn't do anything at all about it, but he doesn't let me say a single word.

Because he just kissed me.

Oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods.

Oh my gods, he's kissing me!

Link is kissing me and not even because I kissed him first! He's kissing me and he's so warm ―no, more like, he's radiating more heat than a fire in the crisp air of winter― and he's so gentle and my heart is hammering so hard against my chest that I'm sure it's going to burst into tiny little happy pieces and oh my gods!

He's kissing me! He loves me!

He loves me, Zelda Harkinian, the future queen of Hyrule, even though he's just my publicist―

Wait a minute.

I push him away. Nothing hurts me more than pushing him away. It's like my whole body in inflated with joy and the fact that his lips aren't touching mine just opened a hole in my bubble that is letting all that joy whistle out of me.

"Is something wrong?" He asks, and I could swear he's even more affected than me, though I doubt that is physically possible.

"Yes," I say, gradually growing hysterical, "something _is_ wrong!"

He looks alarmed and absolutely confused. "What? Did I― Did I do something you―"

"You're leaving!" I suddenly cry, my lungs bursting for air and my whole being bristling with indignation. "How can you kiss me like this and tell me you love me and still know that we'll never see each other again?" I stand. "I can't let you kiss me if you're never going to come back again!"

Link stares at me in the most absolute confusion.

And then he seems to realise what I'm talking about.

His confusion melts into affection and understanding. He even seems to look relieved that our problem is 'only' that he's not on contract as my publicist any longer.

He loops his arms around me and looks down at me with a patient look.

"I don't think my not being your publicist anymore will be such a terrible obstacle," he confides, and then he smiles at me, with that adorably gorgeous, knee-weakening smile of his.

And then he tells me why.

* * *

**Oh my. Now you actually have to read the final chapter to know where Link is headed. Shame of me to keep you hooked, I know.**

**I'd like to make a comment regarding the 'happy queen, happy country' thing. I don't know if you realise that can be applied to a regular life as well. If anyone chooses to be in a cheerful state of mind, things will turn out much better than if the person had been moody. People will treat you better, you'll feel more confident, and your outlook on life will be much more positive.**

**Incidentally, did you know that if you force yourself to smile, even if you don't feel like smiling all that much, you'll invevitably cheer up?**

**Just food for thought.**

**Also, if you have time, check out _Avid_, my most recent oneshot. It's good, I promise.**

**Anyway. See you next chapter for our (temporary) farewell.**

**Love,  
****CM**


	27. Queen

**Alas. All things must come to an end. I'll make my comments at the end of this chapter, so wait not a second more and read this final chapter. :)**

**Only in Hyrule  
"Queen"**

Link Forester, the sexiest man in the Hylian Alliance ―I might be biased, but no one really cares― and my not-so-secret crush, is no longer my publicist.

Instead, he's my private assistant.

The news that I get a PA is shocking enough, so the news that Link offered himself for the job is like hearing that Nabooru Spirit could actually be a man: stupefying. But it's also the most wonderful announcement I've ever heard ―hearing that he's my PA, I mean, not hearing that Nabooru could be a man, since that's just creepy.

It totally made my week.

As such, I'm sort of dazed as I pull on my queenly gown. Tetra came in to help me, because we're just an hour away from my coronation ―my coronation! It's almost too good to be true and I don't feel apprehensive about it at all anymore because, um… Let's just say my afternoon kind of whizzed by and I didn't have time to think about it too hard.

I really hope nobody notices how flushed my skin is. I'm reflecting that, so far, Kotake has done something right in three occasions only.

The first was to predict that Link would no longer be my publicist after the coronation, which was painful on the spot but now turns out to be a blessing.

The second was to claim that shagging Link was the best solution to my anguish. She has no idea how right she was about that one.

And the third will merit her a definite raise: she warned Link and I about the preservatives in the bedside table.

"Zelda," Tetra says, "you look a bit flushed."

Right. That's because you, Tetra, have no idea what transpired in this room between your co-worker and I, just three hours ago. And I really shouldn't think about it too much either because I blush way too easily.

"You think so? It's just… I'm really happy," I say instead. She has _no idea_ how happy I am. "That's all…."

Tetra examines my face. She probably doesn't understand what happened between this morning and now that could have changed my mood from 'I want to cut myself' to 'I hear the deities sing', but I think she suspects me, because the corner of her lip goes up and she says, "You talked with him."

Oh, we talked plenty. "Yes, I talked with him."

"And you worked out the kinks in your relationship."

Gods. You really have no idea. "Yep."

Tetra shakes her head. "And to think just hours ago you were ready to cry yourself to sleep."

I want to retort that it's hard to sleep ―or cry― when a body like Link's is revealed to you, but I don't think that'd be very tasteful or decent coming from the girl who is about to be crowned queen of Hyrule.

So instead I say, "Apparently, he loves me back."

Tetra grins. "I knew it! The little bugger couldn't have hidden it from me much longer!"

I should get infuriated that everyone guessed it but I didn't. Not because they didn't tell me ―I could, somehow, understand why they didn't― but because I was too dim-witted to realise it. But it's pointless to get mad now. "Tetra, could you finish buttoning up the back of my dress, please?"

"Right. Sorry. So…" I don't miss how she turns sly. "Did he kiss you?"

I can't help but smile. "Hm-hm." Really, to just say he _kissed_ me doesn't do him justice.

Tetra gasps and gapes at me, like she wants to call me a fiend. "No way! The minimalist hum was used. You shagged him!"

Am I _that_ transparent? This is getting a little bit despairing.

"I think," I say, trying my best to defend my honour, "that you're overreacting." Because I don't think telling her that he's excellent in the sack will be conducive to their future working relationship. I mean, Link is now part of the palace staff, so they're going to be talking a lot more than they already were.

And I can't have Link getting teased because he's the queen's assistant _and_ lover. For sure, the others wouldn't let him live it down. And just because he's a grown, mature adult who is more than capable of defending himself doesn't mean I can't protect him in my own way.

Tetra grins. "Maybe. It's not like I'm ever going to know anyway."

I smirk right back. "Right." We exchange grins. Until I remember that I was a whacko bitch to her before he found me. "Say… I'm sorry about my mood this morning."

Tetra rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Please. I'm in a worse mood than that twenty-four seven." She makes me turn. "You're missing the gloves."

I nod with a smile, and she goes to fetch them from my massive wardrobe. I look at myself in a nearby mirror. Tatl and Tael, courtesy of the Godly Trio, left half an hour ago, after fixing my hair and make-up. They were surprisingly quick, considering they only had an hour to do the job.

If they noticed how flushed and cheerful I was, they didn't comment. Well, Tatl mentioned I looked healthier than I did before, like my joy was making me glow, and I stubbornly refrained from admitting that it was all Link's handiwork.

Even though, you know. It was.

"So you worked it all out?" Tetra asks, returning with the gloves. Her sharp blue eyes examine me. "With Link, I mean."

I grin. "Yep. He's going on a three-day vacation with Aryll to visit his grandmother in Waker Islands, and then he's coming back. He has an apartment in Marcastle, so he'll be close-by at all times."

Tetra smiles too, like she's genuinely glad for us. "That's great news. I'm happy for you both. It's hard not to be." She sighs forlornly, exaggerating her reminiscence. "I remember the day we first met. You were already smitten with him, if I recall properly."

I notice that she's teasing me, so I give her a little slap on the hand. "Stop that."

Tetra becomes serious again. "And now, you're one of the greats."

"I guess so," I say, looking down at my massive gown. "And I'm a mountain of peaches and cream."

"Hush. You're gorgeous. Stop whining." Tetra turns me around and begins to push me towards the door. "Come on. It's time to go."

I go.

As I predicted, the Temple of Time is swarming with people, and when the car slows to a stop in front of the barred-off entrance, I take a deep breath. There's a crowd lining the street on both sides, circulation was barred for the day, journalists from all over the world are struggling to take pictures, but the tight net of security guards prevents them from getting too close to the car. A long, deep purple carpet was unrolled, so that I wouldn't have to walk on the pavement while walking to the Temple.

Then, Rauru Luz, my witness, steps out of the car. He opens the door for me, and I step out. The crowds go wild.

I graciously take his arm, and we walk towards the Temple. Before entering, though, I pause. Rauru shoots me a curious but patient look. I smile at him, then slowly turn ―I don't want to trip in my skirts, after all― and I wave and smile at the masses. When they see me next, I will be their queen.

Their booming response is all the courage I needed. I can't help but feel my heart swell with love for them all. I take Rauru's arm again, and we enter the Temple ceremoniously.

Inside, the sound contrast is deafening. Where outside was loud and rambunctious, inside is calm and utterly silent. The reverence and peace in the air commands me to be gracious and queenly. The stillness here rises up to the gorgeous vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows.

Every single bench in the Temple is full of dignitaries and diplomats. I know all my friends are seated somewhere in there, and I know Link is there too.

Actually, I can see him, right there, near the end of the row, looking far back at me, and smiling warmly. He's wearing another one of his sexy Terminian suits. How can a man that handsome possibly have fallen in love with me?

I try hard to look solemn, but I honestly fail in dissimulating my joy. My face keeps, unfailingly, no matter how much I try to compose myself, stretching into a beaming smile, so I eventually give up and let an immense grin take over.

I am wearing the biggest gown I ever wore. Its weight alone tires my legs, but I wouldn't trade it for the world. Tetra was right: I _do_ look fantastic.

The bodice of the gown has fine embroidery and pearling, with soft peach tones. The square neckline is low, but not vulgar, with a gorgeous lining. The sleeves become ample at the elbow, with delicate embroidery and dentelle. The front of the bodice is brushed velvet and satin, ending in a vee at the waistline to puff out in heaps of beautiful cream coloured folds.

I wonder, when I get married, will my gown be this glorious?

Will Link look at me as he is now, as though awe, pride and love are battling for supremacy in his eyes? Will his lips form a gorgeous smile as they are now, as though he can't hide or suppress his joy either, as though my victory is his too?

Will he promise me his life with that single look?

When I reach the front bench, level with him, I send him a glance, and he winks back at me.

Okay. I'm never going to stop smiling until I die.

But I can't stop beside Link. I'm not getting married to him, after all. We just hooked up ―and what a hook up it was! ― and today is my coronation day.

Not that I'm going to let my handsome hunk of an assistant get away. It's just that our wedding and five children will have to wait. Glee!

I walk up the carpeted steps of the altar and join the priests. There are five of them, and the eldest is carrying the crown. I kneel. They told me what I had to do, so it's just a matter of remembering my cues.

Rauru takes the oaths at my side, swearing on his life that I am indeed Zelda Nohansen ―I might like the name Harkinian, but I'm a Nohansen by blood― and that all my upcoming words are true. The priests turn to me.

"By the ancient laws and oaths of Hyrule…" ―oh gods, this is it! ―, "… Zelda Harkinian Nohansen, on the life granted to you by our holy goddesses and on the heart granted to you by this assembly, do you swear to seek only the welfare of this land until death defeats your vow?"

The words I speak then don't sound like me at all, like another, usually invisible part of me has taken over and is making sure I don't mess up, "On my life and heart, I solemnly swear so to do."

"Zelda Harkinian Nohansen, on life and heart, do you swear to defend and protect this land by any means in the limits of our agreed laws and oaths?"

"On my life and heart," I repeat, feeling something make my heart soar, "I solemnly swear so to do."

"Zelda Harkinian Nohansen, on life and heart, do you swear to speak the truth to your people, even on penalty of exile or death, and to aid justice and equity in all views of your existence as long as it is ruled by our agreed laws and oaths?"

I raise my eyes and look at the elderly priest holding the crown above my head, and I say, with a smile, "On my life and heart, I solemnly swear to continue to do so."

I swear the priests' lips quirk up at the corners. With a benevolent glint in his eyes, he says, "Zelda Harkinian Nohansen, feel now the weight of your oath descend upon you. May you bear it with wisdom, courage, justice and temperance."

He lowers the crown on my head, and its weight is, surprisingly, a relief.

"You kneeled as Zelda Nohansen. Rise now as Queen Zelda Harkinian of Hyrule."

Wait. He shifted my name. I glance up at him, and he smiles down with kindness and… a wink…?

Oh gods. Link and Rauru actually managed to have my name changed! I stand, feeling my heart burst with joy. The crown on my head is heavy, and yet, I feel lighter than I've felt in years.

My heart about to burst, I turn to the assembly as it erupts in applaud and acclamations. I glance over the whole crowd. I spot Anju and Malon in the first few rows, and they're crying their eyes out. Malon is sitting beside Sheik, who is trying to help her control her joy and look proud of me at once. Anju is sobbing beside Kafei, who seems genuinely happy to be able to comfort her.

My eyes turn to Ruto, who is grinning at me like this is the first time I've ever done anything worthwhile. I don't see Jabun anywhere near her, but I figure he probably wasn't invited in anyway. Which, I guess, means Ruto and Jabun aren't actually hooking up or anything, because Ruto totally could have invited him. Though I guess you can't blame her. After all, the guy looks like a huge fish. It's likely they're just friends.

The priests invite me to a small podium with a microphone. I get the feeling that my role as queen will be to do more speeches than actual ruling. I mean, really.

At least I'm getting good at speeches.

They already placed my papers before me, so I don't have to fetch them out of anywhere. I try to steady my voice, but I'm just too happy. I wrote this speech myself.

I take a breath, then, in the returning silence, I say, "For so long, I was nothing."

I don't know how I already know everyone is hanging onto my words, but I do.

"For so long," I continue, gently, "I could have been dead, and my life wouldn't have had more meaning." I look up at the Temple full of attentive faces. "For so long, I was sleepwalking between reality and the dream I wished was reality."

I find Link's eyes and smile.

"A month ago," I continue, in the same controlled voice that feels so strange but which I'm beginning to love so much, "I awakened. A month ago, I realised I could truly be something more. A month ago, my dream finally seemed accessible."

My eyes are flying over each face, and I see how captivated they seem.

"Yesterday," I continue, my voice gaining in confidence, "I finally had become the princess you claimed I was. Yesterday, my life was hanging on your very choice. Yesterday, my dream was in your hands." I smile as sincerely as I can. "And you had the grace and mercy to pass it over to me."

My voice is now steady and confident, and I continue, "Today, I stand before you with the firm intent of giving you my dream back tenfold. Today, I stand before you with the desire to serve you better than any other ruler. Today… I have become your queen."

At this, the crowd erupts into new applause. But I'm not done.

"Tomorrow, our children will have their _own_ dreams. Tomorrow, we will work together as a loving nation to achieve the impossible. Tomorrow, justice, wisdom and courage will not be mere virtues: they will be _our_ virtues. And the hands that uphold the laws and trust we sought will be blessed by all."

I smile again when I receive acclamations.

"Only in Hyrule," I say, over the voice of the crowd, "can an impossible dream become a truth. Only in Hyrule can the people strive for good and fight for it. Only in Hyrule can all meet fearlessly, no matter their origin, to promote what is most important to them."

When the crowd continues to clap loudly, I finish my simple speech by saying, "Tomorrow, I will show you my gratitude as it can only be shown in Hyrule. Because it is only in Hyrule… that I could have found in others…" my eyes seek Link's again, and he returns my gaze with brilliant sharpness, "…the love and faith to make today come true."

The Temple, usually so quiet, explodes in a loud cheer.

And with that, the ceremony of my coronation comes to a close. I take endless photographs with an endless stream of people. I greet a thousand people and am thrown a thousand roses from the crowds massed outside.

And, much later, I'm sitting at a huge table, filled with ministers, diplomats and other important figures. It's already dark out and the palace has never been this lively in decades. I'm stuffed with excellent food and my gown was complimented more times than I can count. Ralph and Aryll, along with Sheik and Malon and Kafei and Anju, are dancing around to the Indigo-Go's, who accepted to come play for all of us.

The ministers are happier than they've ever been. Everyone seems to have found something to occupy them, be it boring conversation or exciting bets, and it's nearing midnight. None of us seems tired.

I stand from my table, mostly unnoticed because Cremia and Romani, with whom I'd been conversing until now, have just deserted me to pick on Darunia, who is slowly but steadily getting sloshed.

Only to bump straight into Koume and Kotake, who are wearing red and blue ―respectively― dresses that were probably fashionable back in the Middle Ages. Still, they look pretty proud of themselves.

"Oh," they both squeak excitedly, "Milady, you're so beautiful."

I grin at them. "Please. Don't call me that."

Koume leans forward, even though, you know, she's terribly short and it doesn't make her get much closer or conspiratorial to me, "How did you like the food?"

I let out a replete sigh. "Your cooking never ceases to amaze me. How did you manage to cook for such a great number of people anyway?"

Koume presses her dried lips together and says, "Who knows? It might be magic." Which is basically her way of saying, 'It's my little secret'. I can't even blame her. The woman has to keep some stuff to herself, after all.

This time, Kotake leans forward. I'm starting to notice the difference between the old twin hags. Koume always wears warm colours, and Kotake loves blue far too much. She says, "So how was your day, hm?"

I smile. "One of the best of my life." I mean, I got crowned and I jumped my ex-publicist, I mean, assistant-to-be's bones. How could that _not_ be a good day?

"We're glad," the hags say, together.

Touched, I bend over to embrace them both. "Thank you for everything."

"Not everything," Kotake corrects me severely. "You still haven't taken the silly boy on."

I raise a brow slowly, and I send them a doubting smile.

Koume breathes, "_No_. You _didn't_."

"Actually," I say, to their growing glee, "I did." Somehow, I know they won't be spreading that rumour.

Koume looks excited beyond belief, and suddenly turns to Kotake. "I _told_ you we should have had a wager."

"It wouldn't have worked! We were both on the same side!"

I sigh and let them argue, because they probably won't notice that I'm leaving. And so I make a hasty but discreet escape. By now, everyone is either drunk or otherwise too occupied to notice that the Queen of Hyrule is gone.

I don't know how I end up in the gardens five minutes later, but when I see Link standing there, enjoying the nightly calm, I'm glad I did.

He turns to look at me, and grins broadly as he watches me approach. "Needed some fresh air?"

I smile. "Who wouldn't?"

He shrugs and keeps on smiling right until I join him by his side. When I'm finally beside him, he raises his hand and traces a finger down my cheek. Lazily, he asks, "Have you thought about…?"

He leaves the question hanging because my blush probably told him I know what he's talking about. How could I possibly forget our afternoon together? It was inappropriate enough to make me stay red for the rest of my life. His lips stretch into a silly smirk, but rather than find it annoying, I think it makes him look adorably cute.

"I have," I say, taking his hand in mine. He's so warm, in contrast to the night's cool air. "And" I say, lightly, "I officially announce that you are the most amazing man that ever existed."

He raises a brow. "Is that so?"

I nod, and he brings his arms around my waist to pull me as close as my immense gown will allow ―for the first time today, I hate that stupid gown― because he saw me shiver a little. I ask, "Would you like to know why?"

"If you're about to tell me that it's that thing I can do with my tongue," he whispers in my ear jokingly, "don't worry. I already know I'm good at that."

"Oh," I say, blushing at the very memory, "actually I wasn't thinking about… that."

"You weren't?" He looks at me pointedly.

I can't help but laugh. "Well, not at this very moment, but I'll admit―" Gods, he's spoiling my concentration! "No, Link. Now is _not_ the appropriate time for me to tell you that you make me want to jump you."

"Oh, lovely term," he teases, looking perfectly straight-faced. He nuzzles my neck, and it warms me right up. "Very queenly."

I push away from him. "Will you listen to what I have to say or will you keep mocking me? Remember," I add, raising a warning finger, "I now have the power to send you in exile."

Even though we both know I'd never send him in exile. He's way too sexy for me to risk sending him somewhere where other women might try to get him.

"Alright, alright." He manages to return to his professional face, though I know it's just a façade. "Tell me. Why am I the most amazing man that ever existed? Please give many supportive arguments."

I roll my eyes and try not to laugh, then break away from him and begin to walk. He follows me. "First off," I say, "you actually managed to turn me into a queen."

He looks at me sharply, then softens up and answers, "That was all you. I just helped a little from the sidelines."

"A little?" I repeat incredulously. "Because here's number two: you prevented Hyrule from getting a tyrant."

He looks about to protest weakly, but I don't let him say anything.

"You taught me about who I was. You share the same name as the Hero of Legend. And," I add, when he just smiles sheepishly, "you look like sin in bathing trunks."

He lets out a tortured breath and says, piteously. "Oh, alright." He fakes a sob. "So maybe I'm amazing. It's not a fun title to carry though. It's just that someone has to, I guess."

Instead of calling him 'stupid', because he certainly is not, I play along. "Oh, poor you." I let him slip his arms around me again as he looks down at me with a sad frown, like a lost puppy, except the effect is spoiled because we're both trying not to laugh. "What can I possibly say to make you feel better?"

He sighs and looks depressed. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe if you started telling me how talented and handsome I am, I'd feel better."

"Oh well," I say teasingly. "I guess you'll have to keep hoping."

He fakes heartbreak now, bringing a hand to his supposedly shattered heart, even though I can see he's straining against laughter. "Zelda, how can you possibly be so cruel to me? Why, it's like you're hoping for me to tell you why _I_'m in love with you, which is a waste of energy because I obviously love you for your charm, learning speed, kindness and beauty."

"Oh, Link," I say, shaking my head. "I'm so terribly sad that you won't be any more descriptive."

But the act is too much by now. We begin laughing uncontrollably.

Before I know it, he's kissing me. So I kiss him right back, because gods, every time, it's like I die and resurrect at once.

"I think I forgot to mention that you're beautiful," Link says between kisses. "But I think everyone told you that already."

"Oh, don't worry. You can say it again."

"You're beautiful. You're one of a kind, too, so if you think that you can get rid of me now, you're wrong. I found the only woman I could ever care for, so I'm keeping you."

"Are you absolutely sure I'm the only one?" I ask, teasingly, trying not to get too breathless and failing miserably.

"Oh, I've looked," he assures me. He pauses for a moment then says, "In fact, I figured something out." I hum breathlessly as he continues to kiss my collarbone, "There's one type of woman that suits me perfectly."

"Oh?" I breathe.

"Yes, a very rare breed. Usually spawns a single individual every century, I believe. And they're hard to find, as a result."

"Really?" I ask. "And where do you find this very rare breed?"

Link smirks at me and, right before he dips in for another mind-blowing kiss, says, "Only in Hyrule…"

* * *

**... And that's it. **

**If you have unanswered questions regarding the story, you can check out "http:(slash slash) crazygurlmadness (dot) blogspot (dot) com (slash) 2007 (slash) 01 (slash) only-in-hyrule-mysteries (dot) html" . It'll be updated with any other questions you ask in your reviews or comments.**

**What to say? Did you enjoy the ride?**

**I probably had as much fun writing this story as you had reading it, so it's likely I'll try multi-chaptered stories again in the future. That said, thank you for sticking with this one and giving me such amazing feedback all along. I hope you'll keep an eye on my future works and continue to be such a supportive group.**

**And now, it's time for me to bow out and begin working on my next story. No rest for the inspired. ;)**

**Thank you, once again, to every one of you. See you next time.**

**Much love,  
****CM**


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